


Blind in pink

by julestales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Auror Harry, Auror Partners, Auror Tonks, Canon Compliant, Cheating, Complicated Relationships, Except for Remus and Tonks' deaths, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fatherhood, Ginny and Remus are good people, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, Harry's POV, Healing, Inner Struggle, Love and sex are different things, Marriage is work, Married Life, Post-War, Secret Affair, Smut, Smut with a plot, Why does an affair starts?, complicated feelings, surviving is not living
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 55,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julestales/pseuds/julestales
Summary: They don’t normally lie in bed together after sex, it’s too intimate, it isn’t their usual dance.Her body is snuggled against his side, wrong shape of hips against his thigh, soft belly against his hip, provocative starry sky blue shade on her fingernails over his stomach.Her breathing is slow and regular, her head resting on his chest.Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry can see tendrils of shockingly pink hair.His hand moves automatically to brush a sweaty lock out of her face.She looks peaceful in sleep. Gone are the grey twinkling eyes, the cheeky grins and clumsy falls.She’s too quiet like this, out of character.He was never meant to see that side of her.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 182
Kudos: 143





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to another rare pair story!  
> It's a Harry/Tonks affair fic. If for whatever reason you can't handle the concept of two married people having an affair, it's better you leave now.
> 
> This story is canon compliant except for Tonks and Remus' deaths. It explores the complex feelings surrounding an affair. There will be smut, loads of it, there will also be happiness, freedom, guilt, shame, sadness, anger, complicated feelings and decisions. 
> 
> It's Harry's POV all along, what he's going through, what's happening inside his head as he does. 
> 
> The ending might not be the one you'd like.
> 
> The story is set up in 2005, 7 years after the end of the war and follows canon, which means that by this point Teddy is 7 and James Sirius just turned 1.
> 
> This story is going to be around fifteen chapters. It's the first time I try my hand at something longer, I'm very excited :)
> 
> I'm still french and my beta for this work is meditationsinemergencies, thank you so much for your help and support!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. All the charactersin this fanfiction are created and owned by J.K. Rowling, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Harry Potter. The story I tell here my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.K. Rowling's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line. I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story.

_Harry is staring at the ceiling, watching the early morning lights dance on the chandelier. His heartbeat is slow and his body relaxed in a way only a post-orgasmic haze can induce. He can feel the stickiness of dry sweat and come on his body but he doesn’t move._

_She’s sleeping._

_They don’t normally lie in bed together after sex, it’s too intimate, it isn’t their usual dance. Her body is snuggled against his side, wrong shape of hips against his thigh, soft belly against his hip, provocative starry sky blue shade on her fingernails over his stomach. Her breathing is slow and regular, her head resting on his chest._

_Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry can see tendrils of shockingly pink hair. His hand moves automatically to brush a sweaty lock out of her face. She looks peaceful in sleep. Gone are the grey twinkling eyes, the cheeky grins and clumsy falls. She’s too quiet like this, out of character._

_He was never meant to see that side of her._

_Harry sighs, trying to stop the downward circle of dark thoughts that threaten to engulf him every time they are done fucking._

_Guilt, shame and more guilt -the woman lying naked against his spent body is not his wife. She’s someone else’s wife: an auror, a friend, a soldier in the war, the wife of his last living paternal figure, of his mentor, the mother of his godson, his work partner._

_Nymphadora Tonks._

_And whatever this is, it can’t be called a mistake anymore, a terrible terrible deed but a stupid mistake._

_It’s a major clusterfuck._


	2. Madness

The first time Harry had sex with Tonks he was borderline delirious. He was so consumed by his own arousal and frenzy that he lost all rational judgment abilities; he didn’t _think_. 

But that was weeks ago and he is thinking now.

In retrospect, Harry realises he should have been more careful all along. He’d given too much power to their friendship and mutual trust, the power to conceal from his own brains that he was far from impervious to Tonks’ charms. He’d been too blind to realize that her brazen personality and blazing sexiness _was_ affecting him.

In short, he’d been as myopic as a dead doxy.

Harry had looked at her in _this_ light before, of course, he had. He was a hormonal teenager when they first met after all, and she’d always been quite good looking, in a provocative way--a way that his fifteen-year-old self had been unable to process but that surreptitiously crept its way into his wanking fodder.

The images scrolling through his mind while he used to wank in his four-poster bed at Hogwarts had been a strange mix of body parts and vaguely familiar faces. Harry could easily admit to himself that Cho and Fleur had played a major part in his sexual awakening. Even Hermione once or twice, when he was feeling particularly twisted (it always left him horrified afterwards). And occasionally there was a pink-haired, bold and naked womanly witch walking catlike towards him in his dreams (which was ridiculous, she’d always been too clumsy for catlike).

And then it was Ginny. _Only_ Ginny.

So, _yes_ , Harry can easily admit now that he’d always been at least mildly physically attracted to Nymphadora Tonks. There’s no real surprise there. He just never saw the point of acknowledging that fact to himself before. 

It never once occurred to Harry that anything would ever happen with his older, mature and _highly unavailable_ Auror friend. The idea was ridiculous. The idea never crossed his mind.

And by marrying Remus and naming Harry godfather to their child, Tonks became part of his family.

Harry now knows he’d been too nonchalant then, placing her under the “family” and “auror partner” labels, blinding him from the simple fact that she was an amazing, talented, and sexy woman that he actually _liked_.

This brings him to consider the other strong friendships in his life.

Harry would be lying if he said his friendship with Tonks is in any way like the one he shares with Hermione. Of course, he trusts both witches with his life. Hermione has proved herself so many times… As for Tonks, she was assigned his senior and personal trainer right at the beginning of his Auror training welcoming him with a _“Wotcher Harry, fancy seeing you here!”_ and a wink. 

He learned quickly by her side and they are an excellent match on the field. They became very close very fast, but maybe that’s just the consequence of fighting a war together and sharing a familial bond, it gives birth to that kind of unfaltering trust.

But whereas with Hermione things usually are mostly _deep_ (for lack of a better word) and often serious, Tonks makes him _laugh_. There are tons and tons of teasing, joking and laughing with her. The closest comparison that Harry can think of is his friendship with Ron, although Tonks is way cheekier than his best mate. 

It is a level of easy friendship Harry has never known with a girl before. Not even Ginny (he’d already been head over heels for her by the time he’d realised how fun and great she was back then). 

Ginny had been his _everything_ since the sixth year. His friend, his girlfriend, his wife, the mother of his son. He never wanted anyone else, only Ginny. So, for _years_ Harry had absolutely believed that he was immune to any other woman’s charms. Clearly, he’d been lying to himself to the point of being a _complete_ idiot. 

The shift between him and Tonks had been so gradual that the stupid wanker he is never saw it coming. Being partners at work and enduring physical training twice a week with her means he got to know quite a lot about her, as well as see and touch quite a lot of her body. 

But Harry always focused on performing well, of being worthy of his place at the Auror academy. He never realized before that the deep _elation_ filling him every time he duels _her_ is not entirely due to training: The way her chest would heave when they start the fourth round always makes his heart pump faster. Her predatory grin right before she sends his arse to the floor always makes his insides flutter. The quick glance to the curves of her arse when she stretches to touch her toes has been part of his training routine for longer than he can remember. 

He never gave a second thought to any of this before. What a stupid, _oblivious_ nitwit he’d been.

And Harry was _taught_ to be more observant of his surroundings at the academy, Kingsley trained him himself! Taught him how to be more alert of people, recognize the slightest shifts of behaviours… in _others_ ! Not himself! And no one ever taught him to be watchful of his own bloody _partner_ either! 

They are supposed to trust each other completely, rely on each other, put their _lives_ in each other’s hands without a second thought for fuck’s sake! 

And Harry had committed to it entirely. He’d always relied on friends he could trust with his life.

It was only too easy to become Tonks’ partner, it felt so, _so_ natural to trust her and like her, inside and outside the workplace. And it worked both ways. 

They were quickly able to communicate without words, to know exactly what the other was thinking before they could say it. They spent countless hours drinking and laughing together after work and during family gatherings. Their closeness and mutual trust goes way beyond what is required for work and Harry should have realised sooner that this was something he should have been mindful of. 

If he had been less blind, he would have sensed danger, alarms bells would have rung and made him more attentive to what was happening. He would have been able to stop it before it happened.

The _glorious insanity_ of shagging Nymphadora Tonks...

So, the first time. _Right_.

She’s kicking his arse at physical training. Again. 

Her smug grin as she looks down at him panting on the floor makes his chest fill with renewed fervour and Harry realises he can _not_ let her win this round. 

He’s capable of being rather sneaky when he really wants to. 

She never sees it coming, his fingers closing around her ankle, bringing her down to the floor with him barely a minute before the gong is due to ring. 

Fair is fair, the fight isn’t over and she should have been more careful.

She falls on top of him, shock etched on her face, her lips parted in a perfect “o”, her chest smashing flush with his. There are a few seconds of shocked silence before Tonks starts chuckling, her face buried in his neck.

“You sneaky bastard...” 

Harry chuckles, holding her body tight against his, the gong has not rung yet after all.

Her shoulder muscles twitch under his fingers and he knows she will keep fighting until the last second. He respects her for that. She simply never gives up. Every single time he manages to send her to the floor during training, she usually retaliates with incredibly tricky moves.

But Harry is not going to let that happen today. 

Still, she’s on top of him and in a more advantageous position than he is. Plus, the witch is fucking _strong_!

Gripping her more tightly, Harry pushes hard on his heels and reverses their positions, pinning her to the ground under his body, his knees digging into her thighs, her wrists trapped over her head. She struggles harder and for a long moment, it’s only their heavy breathing filling the room.

“Get-off-me!” she grits between her teeth, gasping but grinning madly as she tries to free her wrists.

Struggling with Tonks always fills Harry with a feeling of wicked satisfaction and he knows she enjoys it too.

“Not a chance,” he smirks.

She can squirm all she likes, he isn’t going to let her get away.

She kicks her legs hard and Harry swears under his breath.

“Fucking hell! Just give up already you psycho!”

Tonks laughs, actually laughs, even as she struggles harder, making him hiss another curse through his teeth. 

Harry feels a pang of panic when her legs slide from under his knees, forcing him to put more weight on all remaining available surfaces of her. He pins her under his chest, anchoring his pelvic bone between her parted thighs. The thin material of her training pants does nothing to hide the incredible heat and softness there.

Harry knows she can probably feel the hard bulge pressing against her but it is an unspoken rule during physical training amongst the Aurors: _It’s a natural reaction. It happens. Ignore it. Be professional._

If she could just stop squirming, he’d be fine. 

_And when the hell is this fucking gong going to ring anyway?_

“Merlin Harry, stop poking me!” she sniggers, slightly out of breath.

Harry rolls his eyes even as colour blossoms on his cheeks. She isn’t supposed to acknowledge it for fuck’s sake! 

“Is this a new trick of yours? Stab me with your cock so I’m too busy enjoying myself to fight back?” she asks coyly.

Harry does a double-take, his grip on her wrists slackening slightly.

“W-what?”

It’s the moment of weakness Tonks has been waiting for. She thrusts her hips up, making him choke in surprise and pleasure. 

Harry has quick reflexes though. His fingers close around her wrists again, probably hard enough to bruise, but preventing her from escaping his grip.

She swears and does the only thing she can still do: She thrusts her hips up again.

This time, Harry moans deep and loud and buries his face into her neck, breathing pink hair into his nose. His hips thrust back automatically and he knows he should be mortified but this feels too fucking good to analyze right now.

“Fuck…” he groans into her neck.

Tonks doesn’t answer but a new sound comes out of her throat. There is a pause and then she stops trying to extract her wrists from his grip. Instead, she thrusts her hips up again, with less force but more purpose than before. 

She also _moans_. 

The sound goes straight to Harry’s cock, cutting off all remaining functioning neurons in his brains. His teeth close around her earlobe as he groans and thrusts back, all thoughts of the awaited gong forgotten.

“Harry…” she moans, meeting each thrust of his hips with hers, “oh fuck, oh fuck…”

She sounds almost as if in pain, and he sucks her earlobe, soothing the sting of his teeth. Tonks whimpers. The sound is so surprising coming from her that Harry automatically lifts his head to look at her, too absorbed by the feeling of her soft heat against his groin to realise what it is exactly that they are doing. 

Her pink hair is a mess around her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyebrows high on her forehead. Her eyes are a darker shade of grey, stormy like a raging hurricane.

She’s breathing hard, her lips parted so invitingly that Harry does the only thing that makes sense to him right now, he kisses her.

She makes a choked sound against his lips, her hips bucking beneath him. Harry groans and pulls her lower lip between his teeth before sliding his tongue into her mouth.

It goes gloriously insane after that. 

Everything is a haze. 

His hands let go of her wrists and find her breasts. Her hands grip his hips to bring him _closer closer closer_ and her legs part even more, their feverish kiss deepens.

Their training clothes are so thin that Harry can feel all of her curves under him. The taut nipples under his palm, the folded wet heat between her legs… 

“Fuck… fuck! I need…” Harry groans desperately. 

Tonks’ hands stop gripping his arse to slide beneath the waistband of his trousers and boxers, finding him hard and dripping. Harry gasps as her palm closes into a fist around his length, his arse exposed to the cool air. His mouth is in her neck, licking and sucking at her pulse point, tendrils of pink hair in his vision. She tastes salty under his tongue, mixed with the sweet scent of her hair, bubblegum like the pink she wears. Harry can’t stop groaning as she pumps his length.

One of his hands slithers under her top, his fingers rolling a nipple into a tight peak, while the other travels _down down down_ her body, squeezing one toned thigh firmly before finding its way into her knickers. 

_Warm, wet, tight!_

Moaning at the readiness of her, Harry starts circling her most sensitive area as his hips automatically thrust into her fist.

“Yes! _yes yes yes_ ,” she hisses, her head falling back to the floor with a loud thud, her eyes closing.

Harry pulls at her top impatiently, ripping it at the seam until he can pull her sports bra down and latch his mouth to one of her breasts.

“Oh my god…” she moans, pumping him harder, “Oh, Merlin, fuck!”

In his own crazy haze, Harry can feel her heart pounding madly, or is it his? His body is thrumming with pure need. He feels wild as zings of raw desire and lust run through his body, making him want more of her, _more more more_. 

He pulls her pants down roughly, wild grunts escaping his throat in the effort. She kicks them off the rest of the way and then he’s hard and leaking against her bare warm and wet core.

He looks into her eyes then, seeing the same glint of madness in them that is possessing him. She grabs his hair and kisses him hard, pulling him to her with an impatient noise and delirium overtakes Harry as he thrusts into her roughly, burying himself to the hilt. 

His deep, low moan mingles with her loud gasp, her short nails digging into his bum. He cannot wait, he cannot think! Her walls squeeze his length _tight tight tight_ and Harry loses it.

It is a blur after that. Pants and moans and groans, one of her legs hooked over his shoulder and Tonks asking for _harder faster oh god fuck Harry!_

He can hear the loud sound of their flesh colliding, he can feel the sheer force of each snap of his hips against her. He can feel the sweat dripping down his neck and along his spine, he can see the top of her breasts bouncing in rhythm, one pink nipple escaping her bra. 

But above all, he can feel the mounting pressure in his loins and the fluttering of her walls around him.

With a shuddering moan, Harry’s thrusts become erratic. He vaguely registers Tonks’ crying his name out, her eyes rolling back into her skull before he comes, grunting over and over as he spends himself inside of her. With a last jerk, Harry collapses on top of her, burying his face in her mane of pink hair.

The moments that follow are filled with heavy breathing and spasms where they are still joined, aftershocks of the adrenaline still running through their bodies. 

Harry feels heavy, his brains blank, his heartbeat slowly easing back to a more steady and slow pace. He feels blissfully empty.

Tonks doesn’t move or say anything. Her fingers are still buried in his hair, one of her legs is still trapped over his shoulder. 

Eventually, she shifts under him, freeing her leg in the process. Then Harry hears a muffled sound. Then Tonks is shoving him hard in the chest, so hard that Harry gasps and immediately moves off her, sliding out of her warmth. He falls gracelessly to his side and before he can blink Tonks is sitting up on the floor and covering her face with her hands.

“Shit.”

For the lack of gong, her word hits him with the strength of a bucket of iced water. 

Harry immediately rises to his feet, tucking himself into his trousers in the process. It feels like his brains are abruptly on fire, his body on alert, his heart on panic mode, all at once. 

The blast of realisation hits him with so much clarity that it feels like an icy spear going through his heart.

What have they just _done_?

As abruptly as he left his state of trance seconds before, Harry suddenly feels dizzy and cold. His knees won’t carry his weight anymore and he places a hand on the wall for support.

In the midst of his growing panic, he glances at Tonks. She’s still on the floor half-naked, her face in her palms, rocking back and forth and gasping noises into her hands that sound like _remusremusremusremus_.

Harry has no idea what is going on in her head, but his own feelings are a wild mush too intricate to begin contemplating. Plus he’s pretty sure he’d break down if he tried.

He needs to clear his mind, desperately. 

He’s learned how to react to panic attacks during auror training, _yes,_ he remembers that. Facts. _Start with the facts_ . _Your surroundings. What can you see? What can you hear? What can you smell? What can you touch?_

 _I can see Tonks, half-naked and breaking down on the floor. I can hear her dry sobs, muffled cries and the pounding of my own heart. I can smell Her, her sweat, my sweat. Her fluids on my body, my come on hers. The wall is solid under my palm, the floor under my feet. I_ could _touch Tonks but I can’t…_

 _Now breathe… and_ think _!_

Harry takes several deep breaths, closing his eyes tight as the truth sinks in. 

Sex. He just had sex with Tonks. 

Who is _not_ Ginny, not the woman he loves, not his _wife_ . Who’s someone else’s wife. Someone Harry simply _adores_. Dread fills him and he looks down at her. She’s having trouble breathing and she’s shivering all over.

“Tonks?” he asks tentatively, shuddering at how hoarse his own voice sounds, incriminating proof of what has just occurred between them.

She doesn’t look at him, but she flinches at the sound of his voice.

“Leave,” she whispers through her hands, “please, just… leave.”

Harry takes a few steps back, his stomach tight. She sounds in pain, she sounds… heartbroken.

He has no idea what to say but leaving her here, half-naked and breaking down on the floor is beyond his abilities as a human being. 

Whatever the fuck just happened between them doesn’t change the fact that she’s his _friend_ . They have to sort it out. _Somehow_.

Harry knows words will not be of much use right now. And to be honest, his brains are empty of them. So he simply sits next to her, not touching her but letting her know without the shadow of a doubt that he’s not going anywhere.

She starts crying for real then, her face no longer hidden behind her palms. He’s never seen her cry since the day Mad-Eye died… 

This silent agony seems to last so long that at some point Harry wonders if - or maybe he hopes - that it has all just been a dream after all. If he closes his eyes he might just believe it. 

A dream he can live with. Merlin, a dream he might even consider sharing with his _wife,_ she’s confident and kinky enough. 

But this? This is beyond words, beyond forgiveness, beyond comprehension. It doesn’t even make the slightest sense to _him_. He shudders at the mere thought of coming clean to Ginny. 

And Remus… _fuck_ . Fucking fuck this _must_ be a nightmare. 

Harry feels the familiar, never quite forgotten pain of being responsible for destroying the lives of those he loves the most. And what if Tonks hates him now? The idea of losing her, Teddy and Remus, of not being Tonks’ partner anymore sends chills to his body.

Tonks takes a shuddering breath. Her tears have dried at some point and she’s breathing more slowly. Eventually, she breaks the silence:

“Look,” she says, her voice hoarse from crying, “this was… madness… we’ve got to… I don’t know, _forget_ about it somehow,” she gestures faintly between them, “we just need to… as if it never happened… alright?” she finishes, sounding as if she has a massive cold and aphonia.

Harry sniffs but does not avert his eyes. Hers are puffy and a sickly shade of pale grey. He has no idea what to say so he simply nods. Of course, it seems like the best course of action... He has none other to suggest anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he simply whispers.

She bites her lip, clearly preventing new tears from falling and nods faintly.

“I’m sorry, too.”

He watches her standing on shaky legs but averts his eyes in shame when he realises she’s still half-naked, his come sliding along her leg. When he looks at her again, making sure she’s decent, her hair has turned green. The colour of guilt. Harry wonders if she did it on purpose. She makes the tear tracks and swelling around her eyes disappear and puts some colour to her pale cheeks. When she’s done, she looks at him sadly.

“Go home, Harry.” 

She turns away from him and disappears down the corridor with the steady gait she usually reserves for missions and leaves Harry wishing he possessed her ability to wipe out guilt and shame from his face too.


	3. Denial

Harry barely sleeps that night and for once it isn’t because his son is teething. Mercifully, Ginny is too tired and busy with James to engage him into much conversation, which leaves Harry free to flee to his office and listen to the ticking clock all night, eyes opened wide. He’s not able to process what happened, he’s still in shock. He can’t think, hard as he tries, his brains just don’t want to work and his body refuses to rest.

He’s still in autopilot mode the next morning, making breakfast for Ginny and James, his mind completely numb.

However, he’s barely stepping in at work, feeling exhausted and queasy when Tonks grabs his wrist and drags him unceremoniously into her office. Shutting the door, she casts a variety of spells on it before turning to look at him. Her eyes are fierce and filled with uncharacteristic irritation.

Seeing her again makes everything seem more real and for a moment Harry fears he might have to fight off another panic attack. 

“You look like shit,” she tells him without preamble. 

Somehow, her blunt and  _ Tonksian _ ways help him feel more grounded to the floor. Harry suppresses an eye-roll. 

“Well, we don’t all have the ability to cheat about that, you know…” he shots back.

Her hair is still a deep forest green but other than that she looks her usual self though Harry is having a hard time looking at her at the moment. Tonks deflates a bit, her gaze dropping to the floor, her features softening.

“Fuck…” she breathes, sounding defeated, “Harry… this is… this is so,  _ so  _ messed up.”

“I know,” he says, worrying at his lower lip. 

He has no idea how to deal with what happened the previous day. The potential consequences of their rash act of passion are too ghastly to comprehend.

When Tonks doesn’t seem like she’s about to say anything else, Harry shifts on his feet and takes a shaky breath. He has no idea about what came over them but one thing is certain: he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship and work relation over it. But he has to give Tonks an opening…

“Alright,” he starts, his voice determinedly steady, “do you want to switch partners with Savage? I’m sure we could find an excuse and-”

“No!” she interrupts, her eyes going wide, “Harry, no. I-”

She takes a deep steadying breath before going on, “look, this was a  _ huge _ mistake and frankly I don’t have the slightest idea how to deal with this… but switching partners won’t change anything at all! We’ll still see each other on Sundays, we’ll still all attend Ron and Hermione’s wedding next month… We can’t just…  _ dump _ each other, it doesn’t work like that. Not for us.”

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and ponders her words for a moment.

She makes sense, of course. Their lives are too intertwined for an avoidance tactic. It would never work. Besides, he really _ doesn’t  _ want to stop working with her...

“Alright,” he breathes out, desperate for guidance, “Alright. Then, what’s next?” he asks resolutely, finally looking into her eyes. They are the same stormy grey they were the previous day while they…  _ this doesn’t help! _

Tonks rubs her face with her palms, she’s agitated and starts pacing the office.

“This was a huge mistake,” she repeats, “but we’ve got to… forget about it or… pretend it never happened, nothing has to change…  _ nothing has to change, _ ” she says, nodding resolutely to herself, stopping her manic pacing.

She looks directly at him then, the fierceness back in her eyes. Harry has no clue how this  _ forgetting thing _ is supposed to work but he is desperate to have a course of action to follow. What Tonks is offering is pure and simple denial. He nods and she looks relieved. But then her eyes are boring into his.

“Swear to me Harry, fucking  _ swear  _ to me: not a word about this. To anyone. ” she demands.

“I swear.”

***

Harry  _ does  _ pretend. But forget he does not.

Ironically, the place he feels the most at ease for the next couple of weeks is at work. His daily routine with Tonks is unchanged, except that the mood is more subdued than usual.

There’s no time to  _ pretend  _ when you are busy keeping track of dangers around you or when your head is so full with work that there isn’t enough space in it for distressing thoughts. There’s no need to pretend everything is alright when you aren’t faced with the amazing mother of your child.

At home, Harry puts all of his energy in making Ginny’s life easier, in making her smile, in making James laugh. He’s also the one to get up when their son cries at night, the one to clean the house, the one to do groceries and cook. Ginny’s so tired herself -what with the beginning of her first season with the Harpies since James was born and the toddler himself- that she doesn’t complain, doesn’t notice anything amiss, only notes that her husband looks  _ a bit tired _ . 

Actually, Harry is exhausted. But sleep doesn’t come easy these days.

Keeping busy is the only way for Harry not to get overwhelmed by outbursts of anxiety and keep distressing thoughts from drowning him in panic. He’s vaguely conscious that he can’t keep going like that for long but he’s too numb to work out  _ what _ to do.

***

Harry avoids sex with Ginny for almost two weeks, which isn’t so difficult since they’re new parents and therefore always teetering on the line of exhaustion. 

Until two weeks ago, the only woman Harry had ever been intimate with was Ginny. But that isn’t true anymore and he feels tainted by what he’s done. He’s terrified something will be different if they make love now and that fear causes him to avoid any situation that could lead to sex with his wife.

But Harry also soon realises he  _ does  _ miss Ginny in this way, infinitely. And not because of the amazing physical release sex provides but because he craves the intimacy of the act. He craves the love that flows between them when they are together like that and needs it like he needs oxygen to survive.

It’s  _ their  _ moment. When their bodies are united in love and pleasure, Harry feels like the happiest man alive, as if nothing could ever go wrong.

When it finally happens, it’s no different from  _ before _ Tonks, apart from Harry’s unusually strong emotional reaction. He realises he was dreading so much that  _ something  _ would be damaged in the way he loves Ginny that his relief almost brings tears to his eyes. 

Making love to Ginny helps clear his mind and for the first time since  _ it  _ happened, Harry  _ decides  _ that nothing will change, he still loves Ginny with all his heart and that’s the only thing that matters. He knows he doesn’t deserve the comfort but he’s grateful. He’s so very grateful that nothing has changed in the way he loves his wife that his guilt takes a back seat. 

So, Harry embraces the  _ denial about what happened _ bit with everything he’s got and pushes the anxiety at bay.

This new mindset allows Harry to start  _ functioning  _ again. He’s still exhausted as if his body is fighting against  _ something  _ but he’s able to go on with his life.

***

Harry is so tired that he doesn’t immediately react when Robards announces to him that he’s been assigned an overnight mission. With his partner, naturally.  _ Right _ . An overnight mission with Tonks, what could  _ possibly  _ go wrong?

They haven’t talked again about their…  _ indiscretion  _ but really there is no need to. Tonks’ hair is still bright green and unlike their coworkers, Harry notices how fake and tired her smiles are. She’s feeling like shite, only she’s way better at hiding it. At least Harry’s got a toddler at home as a ready-made excuse for looking awful…

But the worst part of it -the part that makes him sink lower in utter shame and guilt- is that he’s now hyper-aware of Tonks. 

Harry has been quite popular amongst witches ever since the end of lord Voldemort. These attentions often embarrass him, sometimes flatter him but never once did he actually give a second glance to any of those witches. His only obsession has always been Ginny and only her, no matter how many offers - sometimes very crudely handed - he receives. 

But crossing the line with Tonks has changed things drastically... 

Things that he never used to consciously  _ notice  _ about her are now blindingly obvious and he’s feeling more wretched for them. Things that make it much harder to stay in denial and that bring forbidden memories at the front of his mind. Things like the sensual curves of her arse, the  _ very  _ grippable shape of her hips or the sexy quirk of her lips… 

It’s a nightmare he brought onto himself, a burden he’s determined to carry alone. 

***

They leave for Boston a few days later, and Harry is grateful that Remus doesn’t come to see Tonks off at the Ministry. He hasn’t come face to face with Remus since…  _ Well _ . Harry doesn’t think he can. Not yet. 

It’s a safe monthly mission. They’re supposed to act as liaison agents between the two offices. The lack of danger is, for once, a bit of a disappointment. It’d be easier not to look at Tonks while being busy protecting one’s life.

Tonks is tilting her chair back, sending her waist-length wavy plum hair behind her back while they compare notes in her hotel room that night and it almost feels like before. It’s easy to work with her. It’s so easy that, to Harry’s utter delight, they soon revert to their old selves together, cracking jokes about their American counterpart and his ridiculous moustache. 

Thank fucking Merlin for that overnight mission after all.

Bantering with Tonks is easy and comfortable and for a moment Harry forgets to be on his guards. Her smiles are genuine again and Harry feels like he can finally breathe and stop being scared of what watching her does to him because at the core, she’s just one of his best friends. 

It’s only when Tonks stretches her arms over her head and lets out a tired sigh -a sigh that by no account should sound sexy- that Harry realises he’s in much deeper shit than he thought. His eyes glaze over, automatically lowering to her chest, focused on the way the fabric of her shirt tenses over her full breasts. 

He doesn’t realise how long he’s been staring until he hears Tonks’ voice.

“Harry.”

It’s barely a whisper, it sounds almost pleading.

And it does  _ nothing  _ to quieten his desire. 

Harry closes his eyes and rubs his palms over his face. He’s not stupid enough to believe Tonks hasn’t figured out  _ exactly  _ what is going on with him. He’s ashamed of himself for being so… obsessed with her. With her body. With memories. It’s making everything so much worse.

What Harry  _ isn’t  _ expecting though, when he opens his eyes, is that Tonks doesn’t look mad or hurt or annoyed or about to slap his face, no. 

She looks...  _ electrified _ . 

There’s colour in her cheeks and her lower lip is quivering. Her eyes are burning like a roaring fire with unmistakable...  _ desire _ . 

All the air leaves Harry’s lungs in a breathy “fuck…”

Denial is so far off the table right now that Harry feels like he’s fallen into quicksand, trapped and unable to escape reality. The long and intense stare that follows is filled with distressing, yet exhilarating information.

_ She hasn’t forgotten _ . 

_ Pretending doesn’t work. Denying doesn’t work. She’s remembering right now.  _

_And... I want her to remember!_ _I want her to remember every breathy moan, every touch on her skin, every thrust into her…_

_ And there’s more… she  _ wants  _ more! _

Harry  _ knows  _ he shouldn’t feel so  _ transported  _ by that discovery. He  _ knows  _ it’s wrong to stand up and move towards her, but for the life of him, he can’t stop it. It’s a trance, a screaming in his guts he feels powerless to silence and it’s propelling him right into her personal space. She doesn’t move, she watches him approach, the few lit candles in the room make the light dance in her eyes and her rosy lips are parted in expectancy. 

Harry lingers just out of range, realising he needs  _ her  _ to initiate contact, he  _ wants  _ her to want him and it’s the scariest and most honest thought he’s had in days. 

And after an endless second Tonks does just that. In words rather than in gesture. 

Her voice is breathy but there is desperate sincerity in her tone. What she says is so... _Tonksian_ that Harry feels an unintentional grin tugging at his lips as he finally stops denying what is right in front of him. His desire reflected in Tonks’ eyes. And even if the truth is painful, it’s also _freeing_. 

“Stop fucking me with your eyes. Do it properly,” she says.


	4. Freedom

“Stop fucking me with your eyes. Do it properly,” she says.

In a heartbeat, Harry’s lips are crashing down on hers, using her gasp to immediately deepen the kiss. A groan escapes his throat at the feel of her tongue, the taste of her, the urgency of her lips. 

She feels like freedom. She tastes like euphoria.

And Harry just _knows_ she’s been craving him too, been just as obsessed with him as he’s been with her these past weeks. 

The thought drives him crazy.

The sounds she makes against his lips are insanely sexy; hungry moans that, in a matter of seconds, have him hard and straining inside his jeans. 

“Gods, you make me so hard… I want you _so_ much...” he breathes into her neck before he can stop himself.

Harry’s heart lifts at his own words, it’s freeing and exquisite to admit the truth and he desperately needs to get lost in that feeling of certainty. 

Tonks moans at his words and then her fingers are gripping his hair, pulling hard to claim his lips again with even more ferocity. The passion pouring out of her is intoxicating, Harry doesn’t remember the last time he felt desired quite like that, in such a wild, thrilling way. He’s seized by an urgent need to undress her and discover the curves he’s been so obsessed about for over two weeks, probably longer if he’s being honest with himself. 

One of Harry’s hands is at her neck while the other starts a feverish exploration of her body; caressing the dip of her waist, curving around her hip and following the back of her toned thigh up to her arse. He groans against her lips, squeezing her buttocks gently and feeling Tonks shiver under his touch as she slowly backs them towards the foot of the bed. He can feel her hands on him too, feverishly tugging at his shirt, toying with his belt.

His hands travel to her breasts and Harry gasps when he feels them change, morph until they’re exactly the right fit for his palms. He has no idea if Tonks does it on purpose or if it’s just her body’s reaction to his touch but it sends another jolt of arousal straight to his cock. 

With a breathy moan, Tonks pulls away from his lips. She’s breathing hard as she looks at him with unconcealed _lust_. There is a fire in her eyes, the stormy grey is back, full of want and a tad of mischief and Harry is overwhelmed by how sexy she is.

“Take your clothes off,” she suddenly demands.

Harry blinks but is unable to stop a grin from appearing on his face. Tonks is obviously blunt in every aspect of her life... This doesn’t surprise Harry but it arouses him greatly. He’s delirious with the need to discover what she likes, how to make her toes curl, what sends her over the edge, what kind of ideas she can come up with in bed…

He’s _greedy_ for her.

And right now it feels natural to want to know _that_ part of her too as if their close bond gives him the right to unravel all of her mysteries. 

Slowly, purposely slowly, Harry starts to unbutton his shirt, making sure their eyes stay connected. He has a feeling he’s unlocking _something_ within her with his gentle provocation.

It’s not long before Tonks huffs a frustrated sound and takes over for him, tugging the lapels of his shirt so hard that a few buttons are ripped from it. _Yes_!

Harry lets out a satisfied moan as her hands start roaming his chest hungrily. He’s too stunned and delirious to do much more than let her discover his body while he watches raptly the intense and hungry look on her face. 

There’s no hiding her desire, there’s no hiding how much she wants him by the way she seems to be absorbing the feel of him and Harry has to wonder how long she’s been secretly attracted to him.

“Harry…” she says, biting her lower lip. 

And then her mouth closes as words fail her. She takes hold of his hand instead and guides it to the apex of her thighs. _Yes_.

The gesture is so provocatively sexy that Harry knows he’s reached the end of his self-control. He caresses her over her trousers, feeling heat under his fingers and watches as her eyes close and her lips part.

Newness, illicitness, boldness, lust. 

Those are the qualities he’s enthralled with when it comes to having sex with Tonks again. For real this time, without the complete urgency and madness of the first time. 

They fall onto the bed, joined at the lips, Harry on top, his fingers tugging at her clothes impatiently until she’s almost bare under him, her breasts pressed against his naked chest. Harry wishes things could go slower, wishes he could take his time in getting to know every inch of her body but the reality of his desire makes it impossible. The way Tonks arches and moans at his touches makes slowness impractical. His lips are travelling down her chest, wrapping around one of her nipples when Tonks snaps.

“Harry, I want you to fuck me _now_...” she demands, her fingers already working at his belt.

Her words burn inside his brains and wonderful nervousness fills him. 

This _woman_ is bold, experienced and unafraid to tell him what she wants. Harry had no idea sex could be so entralling with someone new. He suddenly feels like _she_ ’s unlocking something within himself.

His stomach doing somersaults, he gets rid of his remaining clothes, suddenly grateful for the darkness in the room because it means Tonks misses the way he trips in his haste to get rid of his boxers. He’s pretty sure she can’t even see his naked frame before he’s back on top of her. 

Of course this means he can’t see all of _her_ either, but Harry doesn’t get much time to lament on this because Tonks is pulling him closer, her legs parting to accommodate him and the urgency wins.

With a last, deep kiss, Harry presses into her, her deep moan muffled against his lips. He enters her slowly, aware that this moment is fleeting, fragile and powerful all at once. A groan escapes his throat at the heat and tightness welcoming him as he slides deeper inside of her.

“Fuck, you feel _so_ good…” he moans before kissing her again.

Tonks shifts under him, making it plainly obvious that she’s got no intention to wait any longer and Harry surrenders to his need. 

In a fluid movement, he traps her wrists over her head, in a gesture that reenacts their first time, except this time Tonks is not struggling but entangling her fingers with his, watching him intently. 

His first thrust into her makes them both moan almost embarrassingly loudly. It’s not as primal and hasty as the first time but it’s still urgent and Harry holds on for control as Tonks’ urges him faster. He drives into her slowly but forcibly, over and over, watching her face hungrily as each deep thrust coaxes another moan out of her. 

Harry almost smirks at the sexy and wanton pout on her lips when he teases her, making her wait between each hard thrusts, dazzled when her hair suddenly returns to her favourite pink. And then, when being buried into her sweet heat and basking in her moans becomes too much, his control slips away and he gives her what she really wants. He abruptly slams into her, over and over, fucking her hard and fast, eyes shut tight.

“Yes! Oh my… fuck! _Harder_!” she moans.

Her eagerness almost undoes him but instead of obeying her, Harry does something else, something quite daring. He pulls out of her and with a short nod he orders:

“Hands and knees.”

Tonks bites her lip and Harry knows he got it right when he sees something new igniting in her eyes before she obeys. And right now, he really does hate the fact that the room is so dark. Because the outline of her, of _Tonks_ , naked, on her hand and knees right in front of him is a view he wishes he could feast on. But there is no _time_. Harry kneads her arse and swears under his breath when Tonks shifts and parts her knees wider. 

“Get on with it,” she demands.

Her tone is so wanton that all Harry can do is obey. He enters her a bit roughly, earning himself her loudest and sexiest moan yet. His fingers close around her hips and then all that is left is urgency and the loud sounds of his pelvic bone against her arse. With a deep moan, Tonks falls to her elbows under the relentless assault of his hips and Harry slithers one hand under her belly to reach her clit.

“Oh yes!” she half laughs half gasps before hissing more orders at him, “higher! There! Fuck! _Harryrightthere_!” 

Harry knows he’s struck gold when she immediately squeezes him so hard that he has to abruptly slow down the pace of his hips to try and regain some control. He can’t lose himself completely yet. Tonks whines and impatiently thrusts herself back and Harry fights the urge to start slamming into her again. 

Even through the dim light, what he sees drives him crazy. 

He watches raptly as she arches and undulates before him, impaling herself onto his cock. Unable to stop himself, Harry grabs a fistful of her newly returned pink hair and tugs, applying more pressure on her clit with his fingers. Tonks gasps and swears loudly. 

“Do it, Harry! Pull my hair! _Harder_!” she orders.

And then she looks directly at him over her shoulder and Harry curses when he sees the insanely cocky grin on her face as she thrusts back harder onto his cock without breaking eye contact. This woman has the power to undo him with a single word or look. 

“Merlin, you look… ah! Hurry Tonks, fucking hurry,” he grits between his teeth, pulling at her hair harder and loving the gasp it coaxes out of her.

Tonks lets out a breathy chuckle but it’s the last cheeky move she manages because Harry starts rubbing her clit furiously, desperate to make her come before he explodes. Tonks’ face is buried in the pillow and all Harry can hear are her choked moans. 

And when he feels the first flutters of her walls around him, Harry lets out a desperate moan. 

_She’s there_ , _she’s right there_! 

Grabbing her hips with both hands, Harry pistons into her, feeling her spasms around his cock, listening to the deep muffled moans escaping her throat. They’re unmistakable sounds, the sounds of her climax and they drive Harry over the edge.

He comes with a low, shuddering moan and collapses on her back, completely out of breath.

Tonks’ elbows and knees give up under their combined weights but Harry is not concerned about being too heavy, he knows how strong Tonks is. His heart is hammering in his chest, his nose buried in the back of her neck, sweat making her body slick under his, pink hair obscuring his vision and he just tries to _breathe_.

When Harry finally moves off her, he’s so blissfully exhausted and drained that he welcomes the heaviness of his eyelids. He glances at Tonks, who is still lying on her stomach, breathing heavily. Her face is turned towards the opposite side.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently and he watches as she nods and pink hairs bounce on the pillow.

“Knackered,” she finally mumbles and Harry almost grins in relief.

Sleeping sounds like the only sensible thing to do right now. Placing a gentle kiss on Tonks’ temple, Harry casts a few cleaning spells, tugs the covers over their bodies and immediately falls asleep.

***

It’s not long before Harry’s eyes snap open as an incredibly loud screeching sound resonates through the darkness. He sits up straight in alarm, his wand already in hand.

“Bugger,” says Tonks’ voice from the bathroom, sounding perfectly awake, “it’s my alarm clock, time to go.”

Harry tries to reassemble the pieces as his heart rate returns to normal and he lowers his wand. He just woke up in Tonks’ bed because... they had sex last night. _Mind-blowing_ sex. He slept in her bed. And now it must be 6 AM because they are due to the Boston offices by 6.30. _Right_. He’s uncertain about how to feel after last night but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because Tonks is being so fucking loud right now.

“Get a move on, Harry! Roger doesn’t like to wait.”

Harry gets dressed hastily, cringing at the sweaty smell he’s got no time to shower off his body. He doesn’t blame Tonks for not waking him earlier though, she’s probably as muddled as he is this morning.

It’s only when he’s fully dressed that Harry finally glances at her. She’s at the door, kicking the heel of her left boot to the floor, examining the purple nails of her hand. 

Her hair is as yellow as a bright sun. He stares at her for a few seconds, stupidly helpless before she glances at him.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she says softly, a small lopsided grin on her lips.

These simple words send a huge wave of relief through Harry, he knows things have taken a very sharp turn after what happened last night and he has no idea where this leaves them or where the road leads, but the fact that Tonks greets him the way she does every morning at work will have to be enough for the time being.

***

As the day unrolls, Harry becomes very aware of one thing. _They need to talk_. There is an elephant in the room and they need to address it. The way they interact amongst people is a bit politer than usual, but not fundamentally different except for the fact that Harry has trouble looking anywhere but at Tonks. 

_This_ has happened _twice_ now. And this time none of them can claim momentary madness or some shit like that. They both wanted it. A lot. And they both enjoyed it. A lot.

Harry is still a bit dazed about the previous night, about how confident and utterly sexy Tonks has revealed herself, how she unlocked a very primal part of himself that he’d forgotten about or maybe never truly dared to show.

He never gave much thought to the idea of having sex with anyone other than his wife before, it was never something he imagined would ever happen, and Harry was perfectly content with his sex life with Ginny. 

But now that he has started this folly with Tonks, it feels like a whole new world is being unveiled to him… 

Denial is not an option anymore and trying to forget is an even more ludicrous idea.

***

Harry comes back home from Boston feeling strangely energized and determined. He knows the truth of what he’s done and he isn’t trying to lie to himself anymore. He has _cheated_. Twice. It’s earthquaking and completely wrong but it’s the truth.

However, Harry also understands with absolute clarity that he can never, _ever_ tell Ginny.

This realisation hits him almost as soon as he crosses the doorstep of his home to find his wife and son eating cake, making funny faces at each other and laughing their hearts out. The scene is so beautiful and perfect that Harry instantly _knows_ he has to preserve his family at all costs. 

This family is all Harry ever wanted and thought he’d never have. This joy he sees in his kitchen cannot be erased by anything he’s done, any painful truth, any dark desires. 

So, Harry joins his wife and son in the funny faces contest and surrounds them with all the love he’s got. He buries his nose in Ginny’s hair when she hugs him, heart hammering in his chest, and is immensely relieved that his home hasn’t crumbled in his absence. 

This is where he belongs, this is where he wants to be. This is a sacred place that his sinful desires and bad choices can’t penetrate.

“How was Boston?” asks Ginny, smiling warmly at him.

“It was fine, they had everything ready for us as usual,” replies Harry.

He knows the drill, a couple of questions and he’ll be clear of his work life.

“Roger’s still got this silly moustache?” asks Ginny, scrunching up her nose.

Harry chuckles and nods, busying himself with cleaning James from the cake all over his face.

The domesticity of the scene feels comforting and strengthens Harry’s decision, helping him push his qualms further at the back of his mind as he makes conversation with his wife over his dinner. 

It’s not before he pulls James into his arms to get him to bed that his new reality hits Harry _painfully hard_ :

“Finny!” says James.

“What?”

“He wants more funny faces,” chuckles Ginny, “is that it, love?”

James nods eagerly and Harry manages a ridiculous rabbit face, earning himself a deep belly laugh from his son.

“Mummy! Finny!”

“Oh no, I’m done with funny faces for tonight, James,” chuckles Ginny, smiling at her son “but you know who’s really good at them? Auntie Tonks! Yes, she’s so _gooood_! Right, Daddy?” she adds, nodding at Harry.

Harry feels all blood leave his face at the unexpected incursion of Tonks’ name into his sacred home.

“Erm- yes... of course” he manages, “Right. James: time for bed!” he announces, moving at once.

When he returns from putting James to bed, Harry feels exhausted again. He knows he should have seen it coming, he knows things won’t be _easy_ … but he can’t falter from his plan. He can’t let what _he_ ’s done affect his family in any way. 

And when Ginny falls asleep in his arms that night, surrounding him with the warmth of her body and love, it only reinforces Harry’s immoral but inevitable decision and he doesn’t stop to think about how twisted it is that it’s his _wife_ to be the one to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to all of you who left kudos or even better, comments ;) It's always great to have feedback!  
> The affair has definitely started now and we'll start to deal with the consequences of it (among all the smut of course :p).  
> This is a smut story with a plot, not the other way around. But I want it to be realistic in the sense that an affair comes with lust, a bit of madness but also consequences and inner struggles. Also, Remus and Ginny are good people and there won't be any character bashing in this story.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	5. Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a new, pretty big chapter for you :)

The whole Saturday is spent at the Burrow and Harry is thankful for the distraction because it allows him to simply melt into the crowd, clear his mind and _think_. 

This place is his home as much as his own house, and he’s always welcomed here with treacle tart and warm smiles. 

The pang of guilt at being in a crowd of red-head Weasley siblings is quickly overshadowed by the sounds of kids laughing and running around the house. Jokes are flying around the room in the literal sense as much as in the figurative thanks to Ron and George’s best sellers. 

Harry has no real difficulty sitting next to his wife, being affectionate. He mildly wonders why it isn’t more agonizing, it probably should be after what he’s done. Maybe he should doubt and feel pain when looking at Ginny but he doesn’t. 

His wife is happy and joyful and the possibility of changing that doesn’t _exist_. 

It’s still as crystal clear as it was the day before: somehow Harry instinctively knows that it is crucial to _untangle and disconnect_ parts of his life from one another. 

He has also learned to rely on more than his gut feeling for guidance and the steps are precise: Ordain. Insulate. Secure. 

He understands that the only thing to do right now is to _compartmentalize_. It’s the key to make sure his world doesn't fall apart around him. And he manages it, in a surprisingly simple and straightforward way:

On the one side, there’s his beautiful son and Ginny: his strengths, his love, his _anchors_. There’s Harry’s role as a father, a friend, an Auror and a public figure. And this is where he puts all his attention, keeping this part of his life intact and secured.

On the other side, hidden behind a dark veil in the depths of his being are the things he and Tonks did and all the dark desires that come with them. But Harry can’t allow his mind to wander to Tonks because it brings unwanted feelings in him. 

For one, he’s aware that guilt hovers over him like a stormy cloud, ready to unload at the first sign of weakness.

And then, there is the fact that, despite knowing that it is _wrong_ , Harry can’t help but feel heat spreading through his body at the mere thought of what happened in Boston, how glorious shagging Tonks had felt, and what seeing her again at work the next day might result in.

***

Monday is full of paperwork. All the files gathered in Boston need sorting and analyzing. Which means Harry spends a good portion of the day with Tonks, secluded in one of the meeting rooms.

They act completely normal and detached when they first see each other that morning, surrounded by colleagues. Tonks, as a senior, is leading the Monday team meeting that day which gives Harry an innocent excuse to stare at her lips as she speaks.

Once tasks have been assigned and cases discussed, people start to filter out of the room, to their work, which soon leaves Harry and Tonks alone. Arms loaded with files, she kicks the meeting room door closed behind her.

“Alright, let’s get this done with,” she sighs, unloading her arms on the table.

Harry glances at her. She looks really pretty today, hair a dark tomato red, eyes a light shade of green. He has a hard time not openly staring at her and wonders worriedly what is going on in his depraved mind when simply looking at her wrists bring back memories of Boston.

Tonks, for her part, seems deeply absorbed by her task and is avoiding eye contact with him even when he’s talking to her or commenting on a file. 

It takes Harry almost a whole hour to put the right word on this strange behavior because it’s so unusual coming from her. 

She’s acting _shy_. 

Gone is the woman who ordered him to pull her hair and fuck her harder, faster. Gone are the coy grins and cocky winks she teased him with while he was balls deep inside of her...

Unlike the morning after their first tryst--when Tonks had been blunt and able to provide guidance for them both--today, she’s decidedly ignoring the hippogriff in the room.

And maybe Harry should be unsettled by her behavior and worry about their friendship or the states of their marriages or the inevitable talk they need to have, but for some reason--no doubt born from his depraved mind--he starts to play with that odd, out of character attitude instead.

He tries to catch Tonks’ eyes with insistence and the way she looks down and clears her throat when he does is fucking _cute_. 

If Harry didn’t know her so well, he might think that she’s embarrassed, but he can read her emotions like an open book. No. Right now, she looks... _worked up_. Because of him. And even if the line between anger and attraction seems thin right now, Harry can’t deny he loves the fact that he’s stirring her up.

He watches from the corner of his eyes as she tears little pieces of parchment frantically while she reads the same file over and over and Harry is seized by the urgent need to touch her. 

“Tonks, you’re ruining the parchment,” he says quietly, placing a hand on hers to stop the shredding.

Tonks’ eyes snap up to his face at his touch, her eyes turning stormy grey and Harry raises both eyebrows at her, waiting. After a few seconds of staring at him, she retrieves her hand, drops her gaze and resumes her reading, ignoring him completely.

“Fine,” chuckles Harry, feeling a bit deflated, “you don’t want to talk, I get it-”

“What do you want me to say?” she flares up at once, standing up.

 _There she is!_ Harry gives her a long look, one eyebrow raised as if to say “really?” and after a few seconds, she rolls her eyes.

“Alright!” she says, sounding a bit irritated, “Talk.” 

Harry gapes at her a bit stupidly, lost for words. It’s only then that he realises how much he was relying on her to lead the discussion and help him make sense of what they did--twice, and give him some hint about what _she_ wants now.

Seeing as she doesn’t seem inclined to do so, Harry braces himself as he realises he needs to be the one to initiate it, and no matter how _absorbed_ he is by her proximity and ambiguous behaviour, he needs to gather his thoughts. A feat that is not made any easier with Tonks looking at him with those defiant stormy grey eyes. His brains readily provide images from Boston, images he’s been revisiting non-stop since it happened.

“Look, I know our lives are… fucking _chaos_ right now,” he starts, “But… we had sex. Twice,” he adds in a low voice, “and… it was--it felt… fuck, Tonks, I can’t stop thinking about it,” he confesses in a very low voice, looking straight at her.

Tonks’ eyes are lost into space as he talks, she’s chewing the inside of her cheek. When she doesn’t say anything, Harry starts to feel exposed and uneasy. After what happened in Boston and how _involved_ Tonks had acted, the possibility that she might not feel the same or want more of what they have been doing had not penetrated his mind before. But it is now... 

“Do you have any idea how wrong this could all turn out?” she eventually whispers, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I’m not going to lie to you or myself about it. I know it’s… _wrong_ , but I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I won’t pretend I didn’t love it. And…” 

Harry takes a step forward automatically. He can’t help but feel pulled towards her, the warmth of her body, the sexiness of her.

“I want you so bad, you’re driving me insane,” he says very softly.

Tonks’ eyes focus again at his words and Harry can see a flash of something passing in them. He’s just been very straightforward with her and he’s desperate for her to say something, anything. Be angry at him, hex him, or kiss him --preferably. He’s rooted on the spot, suspended to her next words.

“Was this--is this just about… _sex_?” asks Tonks, her head cocked to the side as she glances at him.

Harry’s brows furrow at her question. Is she asking if he’s in love with her?

“I love Ginny,” he says plainly, “she’s my wife.”

Tonks rubs her fingers over her eyes and nods, letting out a sigh of relief. She looks like she was worried about him having feelings for her… And of course, he does in some ways, but there’s no need to say it. Tonks knows she’s his closest friend nowadays, his favourite partner, he adores her and admittedly his feelings for her are a bit blurry right now, however this doesn’t change the fact that Harry _loves_ his wife. 

But he’s also desperately randy for Tonks, he aches to push their folly a bit further, it’s too enticing to pass up, too consuming to ignore...

“You?” he asks softly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it all the same.

Tonks lets out a dark chuckle, shaking her head from side to side. 

_Good_. They’re on the same page. 

Harry swallows and licks his lips, he’s feeling warm, his stomach tightened in anticipation.

“And what about…the other stuff?” he asks softly, aroused in spite of himself.

Tonks snorts and her lips quirk at the corner. It’s insanely sexy when she does that and Harry thinks she must have realised by now how much it affects him. 

“Are you asking me if I want another slice of the Chosen One?” she smirks.

Harry can’t help but chuckle before biting his lower lip. Fuck, now he wants her _right now_. 

He closes the gap between them slowly, not waiting for Tonks’ answer but leaving her all the time she needs to push him away if she wants to. She doesn’t say anything but watches him approach with a teasing smirk on her face. 

It’s an invitation if Harry’s ever seen one. 

He gives her a long look then, trying to suppress his grin. His hands don’t shake as he puts them on her waist. She’s warm under his fingers and Harry gives a short but firm squeeze to her waist, feeling his whole body heating.

“Yes?” he insists, in a low, soft voice, looking into her eyes.

“This is... _mad_ ,” she breathes, “But, _fuck yes._ ” 

And then she’s kissing him, hungrily, and Harry’s fingers grasp her waist tightly as he groans against her lips. It only lasts a few seconds, this burning lust between them, before someone suddenly knocks at the door. 

They jump apart as if burnt and hastily pretend to be looking at the files on the table when Robards opens the door.

“Harry, Tonks,” he greets, completely unaware of what he’s just walked into, “I needed a quick word with you, Tonks. There’s been a mishap in Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.”

“Bloody hell, I _told_ them to leave that damn cursed box to us!” groans Tonks in irritation.

And then she’s striding towards the door, Robards holding it open for her. But before leaving, she looks over her shoulder and Harry’s blood goes instantly south when her eyes openly travel all over his body before she winks at him.

***

Harry makes it until Friday afternoon before he snaps. 

Despite their conversation and too short heated kiss on Monday, they don’t manage to get another moment truly alone until the end of the week. There’s always someone to interrupt, always a Floo call or an urgent interdepartmental note to fly into the room whenever Harry tries to steal a moment with Tonks.

Their encounters are heavy with side glances all week, with discreet grins and even--and Harry nearly jumps out in shock when it happens--Tonks’ hand “accidentally” grazing his thigh under the table during a meeting.

Harry knows he’s being far too obsessed with the idea of shagging her again, to the point of being distracted from his work and duty. But he can’t help it, she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in these halls. She walks through the open space, a coy smile on her lips, the picture of self confidence, and Harry just wants to rip her clothes off her body. The idea consumes him entirely and makes it hard to focus on anything else.

When Friday arrives, Harry gets desperate. Not even his lunch break with Hermione helps truly distract him from thoughts of Tonks in all kinds of states of undress. And when even Hermione --focused on her long monologue about the organization of her impending wedding--tells him that he looks jumpy, Harry realises he’ll have to do something about it.

He knows that with the weekend ahead, he really needs to get Tonks out of his system in order to be able to focus on his family. He’s starting to wonder if Tonks isn’t doing it on purpose, being so busy while he’s going mad with desire. The lusty look she sends him as she walks into seniors’ weekly meeting that afternoon almost makes Harry groan with need.

And it’s what pushes him over the edge on Friday night. 

Reasonably, Harry should go home. He’s sorted his files and cleaned up his desk as the sun drops under the horizon through the magically enchanted windows. But, instead of packing up his things and stepping in the fireplace while sending a “have a nice weekend” around like his colleagues, Harry waits.

His eyes are constantly jumping to the meeting room door, biding his time until _she_ comes out, a feeling of excitement warming his whole body and making him restless.

When the door finally opens, senior Aurors filter out, exchanging parting words and wishing each other a good weekend. 

Harry’s heart starts pumping faster. _Where is she?_ For a moment, he fears he might have missed her leaving during the meeting. His stomach drops in disappointment and he realises how fucking obsessed he’s become.

But then, she’s there. She’s the last to exit the office, accompanied by Robards himself. They talk in quiet tones and Harry does his best to meddle with the background, not keen on Robards investigating why he’s still at work when he should be at home.

Tonks catches his eyes and the quickest of smirk graces her features before she’s bidding good evening to Robards and it’s all it takes for Harry to feel his cock stir again.

He stands up, it’s maddening how horny he feels and he doesn’t wait for Tonks’ nod before silently following her into her office like a well-behaved dog. 

He wants to ravage her, and he wants to do it now.

The door closes behind them, and Harry feels his excitement reach a breaking point. He’s incredibly aroused and eager to finally _do something_ about it. 

As it turns out, Tonks is in just as much of a hurry than he is.

“We don’t have much time,” is all she says before shoving him hard against the wall and snogging his brains out.

The kiss is searing and messy and everything Harry has been dying for all week.

“Fuck…” he groans against her lips, “I thought I’d never get you alone…”

Tonks giggles but soon the sound is replaced by a soft moan when Harry’s hands sneak from her waist to her breasts and when they morph to fill his palms perfectly again, Harry curses under his breath.

“I want you,” he breathes, “I’ve wanted you all week… I want you so fucking _much_!”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” asks Tonks, eyes glinting with mischief.

Her voice is so husky, her tone so provocative, that with a low moan, Harry snaps.

His grip tightens around her waist and then he’s lifting her, turning on the spot and pushing _her_ hard against the wall. His body goes flush against hers and he starts grinding his hips shamelessly.

It’s insane how much he wants her, how much his brains simply shut off when he kisses her, how _free_ he feels when he’s with her like that. With a deep groan, Harry lifts her from the floor, needing her closer, even closer, and she instantly wraps her legs around his waist with a breathy laugh.

The heat between her thighs radiates through him and Harry’s hips move of their own accord, he’s desperate for friction, desperate to be inside of her. 

Tonks moans at the feel of his hard length against her center, shifting to get the perfect angle she needs. 

Gods, Harry couldn’t get any more aroused. He’s feeling the urgency of their first time again, imposing and consuming. One of his hands immediately goes looking for the buttons of her trousers.

“I need you out of these, _now_ ,” he grunts.

Matching his urgency, Tonks lowers herself to the floor and peels her trousers off hastily, her robes hiding her state of undress as Harry urgently pushes his trousers and boxers under his hips.

In a heartbeat, Tonks is back in his arms, her back flush against the wall, Harry takes hold of his painfully hard cock and immediately guides it inside her. He moans deeply, eyes rolling back into his skull at the readiness of her, despite the sudden way he just took her.

“So fucking wet for me…” he hisses as he immediately starts driving into her hard and fast.

“Oh! fuck!” gasps Tonks in surprise, one hand flying to the wall for support, the other grabbing his shoulder almost painfully.

It’s fast and incredibly messy but Harry can’t do it any other way. They haven’t got much time, as Tonks said, and he needs her in a very primal way.

Arms supporting her weight, he rocks into her roughly while she moans and digs her fingers into his neck, her back slamming against the wall repeatedly. 

“Holy shit, don’t stop, don’t stop…” moans Tonks, her breathing labored.

There’s a brutality in the act that is new to Harry but Tonks has the power to bring it out of him. He realises he _wants_ to explore that darker side of himself and he trusts her completely with it.

Sheer lust and no boundaries. 

He ruts against her roughly, arms screaming in protest in the effort of supporting her weight, his brains on fire with pure want. He can’t stop groaning in her neck, feeling the slickness of her around him, the tightness of her burning grip on his cock and before Harry can do anything to prevent it, he’s falling over the edge, holding her tight against him while he spends himself inside of her, hips jerking convulsively.

He keeps his face in her neck, still blinded by his sudden and unexpectedly strong orgasm until his heart slows down and he’s able to breathe properly again. When he opens his eyes, he’s surrounded by soft pink hair.

“Fuck. That was…” he breathes in awe, “fast…” he adds in an awkward chuckle, feeling a tad embarrassed at how quick things went out of hands. 

Tonks grins and lets her legs slide to the floor, tripping in the process. Harry holds her tight against his body, balancing her.

“That was pretty fucking intense, Harry,” she says, lips slightly quirked at the corner.

Harry looks at her, her face is only a few inches from his, her eyes are twinkling and she’s smirking now.

“Don’t make me wait that long ever again...” he groans low before kissing her deeply.

Tonks moans into the kiss and he knows she’s ready for more. He wants to watch _her_ come now. Harry’s fingers slide down her body, reaching for her wet tight center, intent on giving her what she really needs. He feels her wetness mixed with his come under his fingers but before he can do so much as voice out how fucking _dripping_ she is, a knock at the door abruptly stops him.

Harry groans in frustration and releases her, taking a few steps back, tucking himself into his trousers and wiping his fingers on the inside of his Auror robes. He tries to arrange his features, smooth his messy hair the best he can while Tonks quickly pulls her trousers up. They glance at each other, cheeks still a bit pink but otherwise composed and Harry nods before Tonks opens the door.

It’s Taylor, the night team’s senior Auror. Harry gets dismissed and all he can do is leave the office with a last sorry glance at Tonks, wishing they had more _time_. Wishing he could keep exploring with her and hoping he won’t have to wait another week before he can make her come.

***

Ginny is not impressed by his tardiness. 

Harry comes up with a story that is believable and hurries to make himself useful at home. He’s aware that Ginny is still irritated at him by the time she leaves him to put James to bed and clean the kitchen while she goes and runs herself a hot bath. 

Harry inwardly agrees with her; extending his work hours so he can shag Tonks is something he can’t do again. 

Family first. 

But _just this once_ , Harry had to do it. He had to get Tonks out of his system. Now that he has, at least partially, he’s able to commit to his family, able to think about other things, able to be a proper husband and father. 

The irony of this is not lost in Harry but he can’t go _there_ , no.

This secret journey he’s started with Tonks has _nothing_ to do with his family and has all to do with Harry’s sudden greedy-lust-and-intense-desire to expand his sexual education with his trusted and deviously hot work partner…

_Right._

_Compartmentalization_ is the key and he swore to himself he’d stick to that one rule.

Rules. Maybe he and Tonks should talk about rules. Discuss strategies. They can’t be careless about this, already they’ve almost been caught twice at work. They’ll need to be more careful if they don’t want _this_ to destroy their lives. Maybe they should-

_Stop. Not here. Not now. Compartmentalize!_

When Ginny returns from her bath an hour later, she looks more relaxed and her irritation at her husband seems to have abated. 

“That felt good,” she says, toweling her hair while Harry reads the muggle paper in bed after his own quick shower.

Harry looks at her, forever in awe of her pretty red hair and the trail of freckles visible on her shoulders over the towel. 

She’s too beautiful. 

Harry remembers how confused he felt when he first realised he had feelings for her. It had been like a slap in the face, suddenly he’d _seen_ her, gorgeous and smart and funny. He’d been a little scared of his own feelings then, knowing he was tainted, knowing his life was not meant to be filled with love and happiness, imagining her getting married to a faceless handsome stranger while he died at the hand of Voldemort.

But then, it _was_ his life. 

Some days, when he looks at his wife and his son, Harry still feels like his life belongs to someone else, a better version of himself. As if he can never truly deserve them. And he probably doesn’t. 

It feels like all this happiness could disappear in a heartbeat. Like his parents did, like Sirius did, like Dumbledore or Fred did, and countless others. In these moments, Harry is so terrified and overwhelmed by his emotions that he commits entirely to his job, asking for the most dangerous missions, feeling reckless, needing to replace his fear of abandonment with well-justified and work-related fear.

Ginny hates it, of course; she worries. But she knows better than to try and stop her husband from being who he is. She has no idea Harry does it because he needs the thrill to feel properly alive, to forget how insecure and unworthy of love he still feels some days.

He never told anyone about that.

But no matter how insecure Harry sometimes feels, he’s fiercely protective of his family. He would give his life over a hundred times for them. He’s almost selfishly possessive of the happiness he’s managed to snatch from life when it seemed like he was never meant to have it in the first place. And he can’t let anything or anyone take it away from him.

“Are you feeling alright?” asks Ginny, climbing into bed, “you’ve seemed… distracted all week,” she remarks, watching him carefully.

Harry’s heart skips a bit but he manages a small smile.

“Just tired I guess,” he says simply.

“Well,” says Ginny, suddenly straddling his lap, covered only by a fluffy towel, “I hope you aren’t _too_ tired…” she says looking at him with a cocky grin. “I’ve missed you this past few days…”

And by all means it should feel wrong, Harry should feel dirty for even considering intimacy with Ginny tonight, and to some extent he does. But when she kisses him, he feels his desire--so close under the surface these days--rise again. He can’t say no to her; she’s his wife--she’s beautiful and tired and he wants to please her. 

He loves her, and this is _right_. 

Ginny lets out a light giggle when Harry reverses their positions and removes her towel. Kissing his way down her naked body slowly and languidly, the familiar taste of her skin under his tongue, Harry gently eases her thighs apart.

And when Ginny tries to bring him back up to her, he resists.

“Just lie back and let me take care of _you_ tonight,” he whispers, dragging his lips to her mound.

Ginny’s eyes darken, and it’s only later, when she’s gasping and coming on his tongue, that Harry allows himself the few fast strokes he needs, muffling the sounds of his orgasm against the warm skin of her smooth and flat belly.

***

It’s not until the next morning that Harry’s weekend takes a frightening turn in the form of his smiling wife informing him that the Lupins are due for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Hope you enjoyed this chapter and this first incursion into Harry' head, this first glimpse of his flaws and issues.
> 
> We'll get to see more of Tonks and Lupin next, watch how Harry handles that dinner and get bit of backstory on the Lupins (of course it's still Harry's POV).
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts, as always!


	6. Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter but it didn't feel right to cut anywhere else.
> 
> See notes at the end.

The weekend takes a frightening turn when Ginny announces that  _ the Lupins  _ are due for dinner that night.

Harry hopes, perhaps foolishly, that Tonks will take a rain check. He hopes she’ll come up with some excuse, Teddy’s homework, Remus’ health.  _ Anything _ . 

He can’t imagine how compartmentalizing is supposed to work with Tonks and Remus in his home. Harry is so desperate not to face Remus that he wonders for a moment if  _ he  _ shouldn’t fake illness for good measure. 

But as the day progresses and no owl arrives, Harry realises he’ll have to face Remus  _ tonight _ .

He doesn’t think he’s ready. But then, he realises he’ll probably never be ready and the sinking feeling in his guts almost makes him sick for real. 

Strangely, it’s only then that Harry realises the real cost of what he and Tonks are doing.

He’s been so focused on preserving Ginny and his son, on sheltering  _ that sacred part of his life _ , that he hadn’t realised how much this mess would alter  _ everything _ . 

Including his relationship with Remus. 

The man who taught him to conjure a Patronus, a lesson about bravery… 

It almost feels like Harry is betraying Sirius and his own father. What would James Potter say if he knew his son was cheating on his wife with another Marauders’ wife? What would Sirius say if he knew his godson was lusting after his cousin, the wife of his best friend?

Harry stole something that wasn’t his and whatever follows, he’s already lost  _ something _ . 

He’s lost the ease and comfort of having all his loved ones in the same room. He’s lost the authenticity of his relationship with Remus. 

And when Remus arrives and hugs him like a son, it’s all Harry can do not to flinch away in shame. 

Tonks is right behind her husband, and for a mad second all Harry can think of is the feeling or her legs wrapped around his hips as he pounded her into the wall… 

However, a simple look at her face helps calm Harry’s nerves and make him focus. He can read it in her eyes, behind her obvious distress,  _ this is teamwork _ , they’re in this together and they’ll make it work somehow. They always do and  _ they have to _ . 

And thankfully, Teddy’s right there, in his father’s robes, morphing his nose into a beak before hugging his godfather fiercely.

“Harry, I’m Buckbeak! Look!” says Teddy.

“That you are, you little Hippogriff!” 

The perfect distraction that is Teddy helps Harry power through dinner. Playing and talking to his godson is an escape, it warms Harry’s heart and makes it easier not to look at Tonks too much. Harry has no idea how much is too much but he’s terrified somehow Remus or Ginny will see right through him if he so much as glances at her. 

As if his lust for her is written all over his face and his guilt flashing through his eyes. 

He wonders how Tonks is coping with being in the same room as Ginny. The two women always got on very well, and Tonks must be feeling the same kind of loss that Harry feels about Remus tonight. Watching both women fret over James is... disturbing, and Harry has to look away.

But Remus is still the same and Ginny fusses over her guests as usual while Teddy constantly tries to catch his godfather’s attention. No one of  _ them  _ has changed. But the fact that Tonks has, for once, not broken any glasses or plates tonight is proof enough of how focused  _ she  _ is.

Harry stubbornly avoids eye contact with her and does his best to engage conversation with Remus instead, trying very hard not to think about the fact that he fucked the man’s wife against a door only two days prior.

And as the conversation slides to the latest laws Hermione managed to pass for all Magical Creatures, he forces himself to relax, things are going as well as they can and Harry figures he better get used to those dinners because clearly, they are his  _ new normal _ , no matter how cold inside he feels about it.

He watches as Tonks takes a seat next to Remus, bringing him a fresh beer in the process and the quick fond glance Remus sends her way sends another rush of guilt through Harry. Remus is talking to Ginny, asking for news about Charlie--who recently opened a Dragon sanctuary in Wales to get closer to his family--and Harry zones out.

Focusing once again on  _ compartmentalizing _ , he sits back, sips his firewhiskey and takes refuge in his thoughts, distancing himself, trying to observe them as an outsider for a little while; the odd Lupin couple. 

Harry  _ can  _ get why people are always surprised to hear that Remus and Tonks are married when they first meet them. 

Remus’ looks are quite old fashioned, even if he’s lost the old shabby clothes in favour of new ones, he still has that professor style that he sported when Harry first met him. 

Tonks, on the other hand, is colourful and often provocative in her choices of outfits. 

Their age gap, so noticeable when the full moon gets closer, only reinforces the apparent mismatch. They contrast so much with one another that it’s preposterous to think they have anything in common. 

But Harry knows better. 

He’s seen them together more times than he can count over the years (and they have dinner all together at least once a month since the end of the war) and knows both of them well. 

Despite her blunt and offhand ways, Tonks is a  _ nurturing  _ person. She loves to protect (her career choice is proof enough), she takes care of people and has a serious taste for adventure and fun. She’s also way smarter than people usually give her credit for when they first see her looks, and loves to debate ideas.

Remus brings her all of that. 

As for Remus himself, he seeks talent, bravery and kindness in people, qualities that Tonks possesses in abundance. He loves to be surprised and deeply hates the monotony he lived in for so long. He has a taste for mischief that Tonks is more than able to bring into his life and is forever in awe of her for the joy she brought into his life in the form of Teddy. Her youthfulness and prettiness can’t hurt either.

Tonks is Remus’ second chance at life. 

Harry had been witness to Tonks’ sorrow and broken heart when Remus first rejected her, he’d also been the trigger Remus needed to go back to her when he panicked after the unplanned pregnancy of Teddy, and he never had any doubts about their relationship since. They seemed to have found balance, united in their love for Teddy, the child they never planned on having. And, despite Harry’s godson being a unique miracle in more ways than one, Remus and Tonks didn’t want any more kids and seemed perfectly happy with each other. 

Had Harry missed something? 

In the new light of what is happening between him and Tonks, a memory makes its way at the front of his mind, one he suddenly remembers quite clearly even if he had pushed it at the back of it at the time. Something Tonks told him years ago during a long stakeout under the invisibility cloak is resurfacing. 

It was during his last year at the Academy before becoming a fully qualified Auror. Boredom had led to talking, talking had led to intimate confessions:

_ “Fatherhood has changed Remus, Harry. In a very good way. He’s happier, more relaxed about so many things but… the thing you’ve got to understand about Remus is... he had more or less given up on life, he had very low expectations… He’d already lost so much during the first war and lycanthropy is so, so difficult to live with... But then, he was needed at Hogwarts and during the war and it became his only purpose in life, that and helping Sir-  _ people  _ around him feel better... to the point of neglecting his own feelings! As if there was nothing more waiting for him than war and... obligations! And when he tried to push me away he was caught in a downward and destructive cycle-” _

She had stopped abruptly then, hesitated, looked into Harry’s eyes as if she was holding something back before sighing and whispering:

_ “There’s always going to be a small part of me wondering if he’s going to freak out someday and leave me again.” _

Harry had been disturbed by her words, too young perhaps, to understand them properly when his relationship with Ginny was blossoming beautifully at the time. He’d offered a few-admittedly empty--reassuring words, patted Tonks’ back and done his best to make her laugh.

How young and stupid he’d been.

Watching them now makes Harry realise how complicated their relationship had been from the start. How such a disastrous beginning must leave its mark.

Was Tonks still living in the constant fear of being abandoned by the person she loved? If yes, then… they have even more in common than Harry initially thought.

It just took  _ him  _ longer to realise that the end of the war wouldn’t simply, automatically, solve everything and leave a clean slate behind to start anew. That having the perfect, love filled life he’d always dreamed about wouldn’t erase his darkness and his deep, ingrained fears and traumas, the ones he’d rather bury under workload or...  _ between Tonks thighs? _ than face.

Was  _ that  _ what was happening? Could this be the  _ reason _ behind this… affair? 

But was there ever a  _ reason  _ for starting an affair? Or did it simply  _ happen _ ?

Was this really, simply, only about…  _ sex _ ? A physical alchemy and boiling lust between two people too weak to fight it? If so, then, what quality was  _ Tonks  _ finding in him?

Harry watches numbly as Remus’ arm rests behind Tonks’ back, his fingers toying absentmindedly with a lock of her turquoise hair, and his thoughts move on to strange territory.

He has to admit he  _ does  _ have some trouble picturing  _ it _ . 

Tonks and Remus, together in bed. Having sex. 

Maybe it’s simply because Remus has been in Harry’s life since he was barely thirteen but he can’t imagine his old professor fucking with everything he’s got. 

And yet, he  _ must  _ be. 

Harry can’t imagine Tonks with someone dull in bed, and he’s pretty sure he caught a few unguarded lusty stares sent her way coming from Remus over the years. 

Plus, there’s the irrefutable proof--what Tonks  _ told  _ Harry, years ago during a drunken night. They had been celebrating his first successful exams at the Academy and Harry still had loads to learn about his new partner and senior. 

Alcohol, no doubt, had led to intimate confidences and Tonks was notoriously known to have a loose tongue while drunk. She had bombarded him with personal questions, and maybe it was the fact that Harry had no one else to talk about  _ that  _ with--Ron was out of the question for obvious reasons, and it felt too weird to talk about  _ that  _ with Hermione--but to this day, Harry still doesn’t quite remember how much information about his sex life he’d let slip.

But he still remembers vividly what Tonks had told him about  _ hers _ . 

_ “Being with a werewolf has its perks, Harry,” _ she’d said, grinning mischievously at him.

Harry, being the innocent little deer he still was at the time, unused yet to Tonks’ blunt ways, had simply asked  _ “How so?”  _ out of curiosity, not dreading the answer at all.

Firewhiskey had spurted out of his nose at her answer and fucking hell that  _ hurt _ .

_ “Best. Fuck. Ever.”  _ she’d winked,  _ “The perfect mixture between loving and fucking wiiiiild and dominant right before the full moon. And I’m telling you, Harry, you have  _ no  _ idea what’s hidden under all that tweed.” _

Suffice it to say that Harry had vainly begged to be obliviated and had a hard time looking at Remus in the eyes without blushing for a while after that.

“Harry?”

The voice penetrates Harry’s mind and he suddenly remembers where he is, when he is and who he is with. 

Remus is looking at him, a glint of amusement in his eye and Harry instantly feels heat growing in his cheeks.

“I’m not sure another drink is a good idea after all,” teases Remus, bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, over Harry’s glass, “you’re already miles away.”

Harry forces an embarrassed chuckle out and ignores Remus’ advice, handing out his glass, deciding he’d rather blur his mind with alcohol right now than face his disturbing memories and thoughts and the man they involve, currently sitting in front of him with a curious look on his face.

When the Lupins finally depart that night, Harry feels drained and, despite the alcohol running in his veins, very confused. He falls into bed feeling like he’s run a marathon when in reality he just spent a couple of hours sitting with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter feels a bit different but it was important to dig in Harry's thoughts and memories a bit.
> 
> Next chapter will be lighter, much lighter ;) (and shouldn't be long to arrive!)
> 
> I hope some of you are still enjoying the story! Thank you for reading!


	7. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very smutty interlude.

She’s wearing _that_ skirt. The one that makes her look like that provocative punk-rock Weird Sisters bass player. 

Logically, Harry knows he’s seen Tonks wearing that skirt a hundred times before. But really, now that he knows the curves lying underneath this fabric, there’s no stopping the _thoughts_.

And his thoughts about Tonks’ skirt (and mostly what’s underneath) feel like sweet abandon. 

They cover up the confusing ones Harry has been muddled with ever since _the dinner_ . Maybe they were just the result of the wanderings of his slightly drunken and guilty mind, or maybe he’s getting closer to the heart of the matter, whichever, Harry is _not_ ready to face them. 

He feels drained and emotionally exhausted and he wonders how it’s possible that his body didn’t get the memo, because as soon as Tonks enters the office that morning, black skirt and all, he instantly gets hard.

And now he’s stuck in a bloody meeting, pretending to watch Tonks draw diagrams and other boring shit on the blackboard with her wand when _actually_ , he’s looking at the creamy skin of her thighs below the bloody skirt.

Harry feels immensely frustrated. 

It feels like someone opened a Pandora Box of Sex right under his nose and is now waving it in front of him tantalizingly, just out of reach. To be honest, Harry feels as emotionally and physically unstable as a hormonal teenager and it’s both annoying and incredibly arousing.

Being in a state of constant arousal is something Harry hasn’t had to deal with in quite some time. Of course, James finally sleeping eight continuous hours at night changed things at home too, in a very good way.

And yet, no matter how many times Harry has sex with his wife (twice already this week), he can’t help but get fucking horny everytime Tonks walks by or bends over to grab something she clumsily let fall out of her grip. It’s _maddening_.

Maybe Harry has a problem.

He remembers when he was sixteen, crushing madly over Ginny, how she’d invaded his dreams, made him ashamed of his thoughts, made him desperately horny. But he was a virgin then. It was only normal that his body reactions got out of control. Harry is a grown-up now for fuck’s sake. He can’t walk around the office with a massive bulge in his trousers all day, eyeing a woman that should be completely off limits!

Physical training that day is torture. Harry only manages because he’s not paired up with Tonks but with Savage, who is as sexy as a house elf. Still, he has to _watch_ Tonks duel Morrisson on the exact spot they had sex only weeks ago and seeing her body in action puts more forbidden memories at the front of his mind.

And when training is finally over, Tonks is wearing the bloody skirt _again_! The ideas running through Harry’s mind are truly filthy, and he’s glad there’s no Legilimency exercise today.

Fortunately, Harry and Tonks are due to patrol Diagon Alley that afternoon. It’s not a very interesting task, to be honest, but it must be done. Aurors must be seen patrolling from times to times in order to give a sense of security to the public. And who could help boost public confidence in the Ministry better than Harry Potter? Harry hates it because there’s always someone to stop him and ask for an autograph or a picture. It’s embarrassing, and he’ll probably never get used to it but he’s learned to simply smile and sign the parchments handed out to him. 

Today though, Harry can’t ban the feeling of excitement in his belly as he and Tonks step out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. She’s wearing long wavy purple hair and her nicest Auror robes, hiding from view the maddening skirt. 

But it doesn’t change the fact that Harry _knows_ it’s there. 

Patrols are good opportunities to talk, lost in the crowd with a good muffliato, there’s no risk of being overheard. They are supposed to be in constant vigilance but truly, nothing bad ever happens in Diagon Alley anymore. 

Thank Merlin for that. 

“It’s nice to finally be out of the office,” says Tonks, “I thought I was going to be stuck with only paperwork and bloody meetings all week.”

Harry knows Tonks gets restless and grumpy when she’s not on the field for too long. He’s the same. Paperwork was never his strong suit and he’d rather patrol or be sent on missions than sit in a chair.

“Too bad it’s raining buckets though, typical British spring” he snorts, wiping water from his glasses.

“Well, see the bright side, Harry, that means less autographs for you to sign,” grins Tonks.

Harry sends her a mock glare but nods. The street is nearly empty except for a few brave shoppers sodden to their bones. 

“I’ll take rain over paperwork anytime,” she adds with a sigh.

Harry walks by her side, watching as she steps into a large puddle, her boots making water splash up to her knees. He’s glad they are patrolling together today because it gives them some time alone after this emotionally tiring weekend. And no matter how horny Harry has been feeling these past few days--they haven’t done anything since he banged her against the wall in her office--there are very _practical_ things he needs to discuss with Tonks that he’s avoided mentioning so far because he’s not sure how to broach the subject. 

Discussing the terms of an affair? 

It’s not something Harry ever thought he would do, it makes him uncomfortable to talk about it, in a practical, non-sexual way and he has a hunch Tonks feels the same. Weirdly, it feels more incriminating to discuss what they are doing than actually doing it and surrendering to a shared lust in the heat of a moment.

But he can’t completely avoid discussing some things with her, so he decides on testing the waters first.

“How have you been, you know, since… the dinner?” he asks softly.

Tonks sighs and glances at him.

“It was… hard, Harry.”

“I know,” he mutters, “I know. I kept thinking one of them would just _know_ if I looked at them in the eye for too long… or if I simply looked at _you…_ ”

There is silence.

“Well… it didn’t go unnoticed…” Tonks finally says, in a low voice.

Harry feels his heart skip a beat and his face blanches. He stops in his tracks and looks at Tonks fully.

“What do you mean?” he asks, eyes wide and voice catching in his throat.

“Only that Remus asked me if something was wrong between us… he noticed we didn’t interact much that night.”

“Fuck,” breathes Harry, “I’m sorry…”

“Well, you need--we need--to act normal, because otherwise…” says Tonks, letting her sentence die out with a hollow look.

Harry nods. If Remus has noticed something amiss, it’s Harry’s fault. He’d been so preoccupied that he didn’t realise others would notice he was acting differently towards Tonks.

There is a long silence as they start walking again, watching a couple of witches struggling to open their umbrella down the road.

“Listen Harry,” says Tonks quite suddenly, “This is fucking batshit crazy… we can’t let it ruin our lives,” she says before sighing, shaking her head and starting again, more slowly, “we’ve got to be more careful.” 

Harry’s heart, who had been beating coldly at the idea that Tonks might be ending things with him or starting a very intense conversation, suddenly jumps in his chest.

“I was thinking the same thing and...” he starts in a low voice, “are you-,” Harry swallows, he’s meant to ask this before but it felt too incriminating to voice out, “you’re still on the potion, aren’t you?” he asks a bit nervously, glancing sideways at her. He knows Tonks is being extra careful after her one unplanned pregnancy but he _has_ to ask.

She snorts before nodding at him.

“Of course. Potion _and_ charm. Ever since Teddy…”

Harry nods and bows his head, relieved, before carrying on with his train of thought.

“We need to act ourselves. No more, no less,” he states resolutely, “we haven’t been very careful at work either,” he adds, blushing slightly because he knows perfectly well this is mostly _his_ fault.

Tonks is obviously suppressing a smirk but she doesn’t comment on it. 

“We’ve got to keep our priorities right,” she says slowly, “our families, our jobs...”

“Right,” nods Harry, “Family first, always.” 

Tonks nods, her eyes closing briefly and as the silence drags on, Harry can feel the guilt radiate through her. It’s mad what they are doing, it’s wrong and shameful and too painful to really think about. And yet, Harry is also _consumed_ by the idea of getting his hands on her again, by the sweet abandon she feels like. 

His hunger for her overruns any other feeling right now and propels him into a much more playful state of mind.

“And no more of that bloody skirt,” he says softly, glancing at her.

“Which skirt?” asks Tonks, looking at him in surprise as his words effectively extracts her from her thoughts.

“You know bloody well which skirt I’m talking about,” he snorts, feeling his face flush a little bit.

“You like?” she asks in an innocent tone, but the way her lip quirks at the corner betrays her.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a hard time focusing all day…”

Tonks drops the act and lets out a breathy laugh. She glances at him, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well... maybe _I_ _like_ seeing that bulge in your pants...” she whispers, nodding towards Harry’s crotch before biting her lip.

Harry’s head snaps up to look at her fully. It’s amazing how fast they just switched from guilt to seduction games. It’s such a glorious escape from reality and it makes Harry feel lightheaded. 

Tonks is smiling smugly, as if she’s particularly proud of herself. Harry can’t help but let out a dark chuckle. 

She has no idea what’s going on in his mind...or maybe she does, seeing how her eyes are suddenly gleaming.

His mind going a hundred miles an hour with smutty ideas and crazy calculating plans, Harry clears his throat. This is mad. _Deliciously_ mad.

“A short patrol in Knockturn, perhaps?” he offers, not hiding the hungry look in his eyes.

Tonks’ nostrils flare and something _more_ ignites in her eyes as she suppresses a smirk and nods.

“Lead the way,” she says, so huskily that Harry has no doubts she knows exactly what she just agreed on.

They walk in silence, Harry’s insides dancing with anticipation. This is risky, but despite the _rules_ they just decided on, he can’t help but think about how much he wants to touch her… How mad this skirt has been driving him all day.

They take a turn, by-passing the first shabby looking deserted shops of Knockturn and Harry starts walking faster, Tonks right beside him. The street is empty and Harry knows there is a secluded corner right between The Coffin House and The Spiny Serpent.

They shouldn’t be doing this, but there’s no stopping the growing lust in Harry now, they just need to be careful.

Harry leads Tonks in the small alleyway between the two shops, trying to suppress the wicked smirk tugging at his lips at how elated and deviant he feels. This should _not_ arouse him so much.

Checking over his shoulder for any sign of movement, Harry swiftly extracts his invisibility cloak from his pocket and throws it over their bodies. The sound of the rain is suddenly muffled, it feels like a warm dark cocoon under there. 

Tonks has her back pressed against the hard brick wall and she’s looking at him with twinkling stormy grey eyes. Harry doesn’t say anything for a long moment, too stunned by what they are doing and how excitingly depraved he feels about it, about how this... _thrill_ of danger is exactly what he needs. 

He knows they don’t have much time, already they are breaking their own rules, and risking their jobs and reputation in the process. He’s surprised at himself for being so turned on at the idea of illicitness. But maybe this shouldn't be so shocking after all, he was never one to follow the rules.

He tugs gently at Tonks’ robes, parting it until the unfamous skirt is on display and he groans, glancing up at her as the creamy skin of her thighs is revealed. 

She’s looking at him expectantly, her lips slightly parted, her breasts rising with her slow, deep breathing. 

“You know, I’ve been _obsessed_ about you in that skirt all day…” he says in a low voice so husky that he has trouble recognizing it.

Tonks looks at him silently for a moment before a wicked smile spreads on her lips.

“You should see my panties...” she breathes.

Something snaps in Harry at her provocative words and he smashes his lips against hers, one hand wrapping around the side of her warm neck. She gasps and returns the kiss with urgency, immediately thrusting her tongue into his mouth.

This illicit rendez-vous in a dark street breaks all the rules and it’s _thrilling_.

But they need to be quick and careful, despite the obvious madness they are both swimming in right now. Harry pulls away, trapping Tonks’ lower lip with his teeth before letting go with a groan. He knows exactly what he wants to do to her, he can’t get sidetracked by her lips.

There’s not much room under the cloak, it’s pretty dark and the air is incredibly warm. Harry looks down as he slowly sneaks one hand down Tonks’ body, trailing his fingers along her thigh lightly, watching goosebumps appear on her flesh.

He inches slowly up, fingers slithering under the fabric of her skirt, crossing the forbidden border he’s been so obsessed about all day. He gives a hard squeeze to her upper thigh, gripping her supple flesh tightly before pulling his hand away. 

Even in the darkness, Harry can see that Tonks’ eyes are filled with impatient desire and he smirks a little bit at her reaction. His fingers move towards her face and he caresses her lower lip with his thumb, watching Tonks’ dark eyes glimmer. Pressing his digit against her lips, Harry groans softly when she welcomes it into her hot wet mouth. 

He feels the ridge of her teeth against his thumb briefly before her velvety mouth closes around it and she starts sucking, lips supple, tongue wet and hot, eyes boring into Harry’s. He momentarily zones out at the feeling, watching the way her pretty lips close around his digit, she’s insanely sexy, sucking his finger like that, and more smutty ideas rise in him at the view before his eyes focus again and he remembers what he’s planned for her. 

Retrieving his wet finger gently, Harry slithers his hand down Tonks’ body again, and under her skirt. He doesn’t stop his ascension this time, until he can feel warm silky fabric under his palm. Tonks’ breathing is slow, deep and loud under the cloak and Harry can feel the dampness of her knickers. 

Oh yes, she’s impatient.

Without warning, Harry grabs her mound possessively in his palm and looks directly at her. Her surprised gasp makes him feel exceptionally powerful and dominant. 

Keeping eye contact, Harry gently tugs her knickers to the side, his fingers meeting the soft wet flesh of her center. Tonks lets out a soft moan at his first light touch, automatically shifting her legs to give him more room.

“I was selfish last time, you didn’t get to finish…I want to make it up to you,” he says softly.

Tonks’ breath catches in her throat and Harry can see a delighted and blazing glint in her eyes. She looks defiant and eager and a tad too provocative for Harry’s taste right now. This feels like a playful competition somehow, and Harry can’t wait to watch her lose herself under his touch.

He’s immediately rewarded with a gasp of surprise that turns into a moan mid-way when he spears her open and slides two fingers inside her. She curses softly when Harry hooks his fingers and starts massaging the area, doing a slow-motion over her clit with his thumb at the same time. She’s warm, wet and tight around his fingers and Harry feels his cock twitch at the feeling.

He watches as a beautiful smile appears on Tonks’ lips when he finds a slow rhythm that she seems to like, his other hand brushing one of her breasts over her shirt. Her soft moans go straight to his cock and Harry hums. How glorious she feels, how insane and arousing it is to touch her this way.

Tonks doesn’t avert her eyes, letting him see her every reaction and Harry thinks he might be able come just by watching her. 

“Gods, you are so fucking hot right now,” he tells her, suppressing a groan and applying more pressure to her clit as he circles it.

Tonks’ head falls back against the bricks and Harry watches as her eyes close in pleasure. Her soft moans guiding his movements, he observes her reactions hungrily and learns how to play her, learns where to focus to get the sweetest moans out of her while her arousal slicks his fingers. 

When her hips start to give impatient little jerks towards him, he pumps a bit faster, elated when her eyes snap open again and her moans become louder, her breathing laboured.

“Yes... mmmh, god yes!”

“Yes? You like that?” Harry asks, all innocence, discovering he likes to tease her just as much as she enjoys doing it to him.

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop!” she says, looking daggers at him before biting her lower lip and letting out a loud wanton moan.

Harry hums and bites his lip, adoring the way she is unashamedly chasing her release now, getting lost in her pleasure. He grins wickedly at the filthy sound of his wet fingers sliding in and out of her, breathing deeply to let the scent of her arousal invade his lungs. He can’t help but slowly move his hips against her hip, his hard cock seeking some sort of friction. 

It doesn’t take much longer before Tonks starts clamping down on his fingers and grabbing his shoulders to steady her shaky legs.

“Harry!” she cries, “Oh-my-fucking-god, yes!”

Harry sees it on her face before he feels it around his fingers. Her eyebrows fly up in ecstasy, her eyes close, and then she’s moaning and moaning and convulsing around his digits as he keeps pumping them into her, his thumb stroking her clit just a little bit gentler. Harry can’t help but grin in wicked satisfaction as, for the first time, he watches her come, relishing in every little twitch of her muscles around his fingers.

“Yes… just like that...” he encourages her very softly, fascinated by the way her hair suddenly turns pink as she comes around his fingers. 

Tonks’ crumbles in his arms, her forehead on his shoulder, and Harry holds her tightly, letting her come down from her orgasm slowly while he gently caresses her hair.

He’s still hard as a rock but he knows they’ve already spent too much time down the alley, it would be foolish to push their luck any further today. Besides, he got what he came for and he’s willing to handle an erection for the rest of the day (or until he can take care of it himself) if it means they can both keep their jobs and lives intact after this little stunt. 

Thank Merlin for wizards’ robes.

“We should get going,” he says gently when Tonks seems to be breathing normally again. 

He feels her nod against his shoulder and helps straighten her skirt (regretting that he never even got to see those panties after all) before checking that the coast is still clear. 

He’s about to remove the cloak from their bodies when Tonks stops him with a soft kiss on his lips that feels a lot like a gentle thank you. It’s surprising, they haven’t shared _that_ kind of kiss yet, it’s sweet but there is something… _intimate_ about it that feels a bit _odd_. Before Harry can try to analyze the feeling, Tonks is pulling away and smirking up at him.

“Knockturn Alley, Harry? You’re seriously kinky, I had no idea,” she grins, mischief in her eyes.

Harry lets out a low chuckle but secretly agrees with her; he had no idea either. Admittedly, the cloak _has_ been used for that purpose before, but Knockturn Alley? Well, let’s just say Harry would never have deliberately thought of doing _that_ if it weren’t for how insanely horny Tonks makes him feel. 

They make their way back to Diagon Alley quickly, the rain hasn’t slowed down, quite the opposite. The street is now completely empty and after a quick last check of their surroundings, they decide on going back to the office. They step into the fireplace with a last glance at each other, the secret of their naughty rendez-vous down Knockturn Alley still gleaming in their eyes.

  
  
  


***

Thirty minutes. 

Thirty minutes is the average length of an Auror lunch break on a regular Thursday.

Harry knows this because for thirty blissful minutes, he’s being bloody _tortured_ by Tonks. 

She catches him as he fastens his cloak over his shoulders, stomach rumbling and already late for his lunch-break, about to grab something at the cafeteria and eat in front of his files. 

But Tonks has other plans.

Harry obeys the pull of her hand as she drags him into her office through the empty open space, a goofy grin on his face. It’s been two days since Knockturn Alley and he’s devoutly thankful for the initiative Tonks just took because his horniness isn’t going away, at all.

With the promise of hot--probably quick and dirty but hot--sex in Tonks’ office, Harry drops everything and follows her, empty stomach be damned.

When the door is closed, discretion and locking spells thrown at it and guaranteeing privacy, Tonks turns to look at him and smiles predatorily. 

Harry’s stomach instantly does somersaults, all thoughts about his hunger for food completely forgotten. All _other thoughts_ than Tonks and the naughty glint in her eyes, forgotten.

“So…” she says, moving slowly towards him with the confidence of a lingerie model, “Lunch break?” she asks huskily, looking him up and down appreciatively as if he’s an appetizing piece of meat.

Harry swallows and bites the grin off his lips, feeling very much like a prey animal and realising that he loves the sensation to no end. 

He instantly realises that _she_ ’s the one going to lead their illicit meeting today and he’s very much interested in watching that unfold. 

She’s wearing a short bob of steel blue hair, her usual stormy grey eyes and dark lashes, but her lips are standing out particularly today, in a shade of rich red. 

Whether it’s lipstick or morphing, Harry doesn’t know but it’s sending strong signals to his body, and fast.

“Stop looking at me like that, it’s making me wet,” she breathes, before closing the gap between them and kissing him hard.

Harry responds in kind, he’s got a very strong feeling that a horny Tonks highjacking his lunch break can only mean good very news for him. He doesn’t waste any time before he starts to pull at her robes, eager to get closer to her skin. He hasn’t been properly naked with her since Boston, and even then it was too dark to properly _see_. He aches to learn her curves with his eyes now that his hands have roamed her frame several times already. 

But Tonks is ahead of him. Harry’s robes are soon pooling at their feet and Tonks' fingers working at his shirt, revealing his chest.

She takes a step back, eyes roaming over his shoulders, his chest, his abs, his navel… following the trail of black hair leading downwards, and sighs.

“I’m supposed to be working, but all I can think about is your body,” she says huskily, her eyes landing on the growing bulge in Harry’s trousers and staying there.

Harry exhales loudly, too worked up by her stare and words to think. He’s already straining inside his trousers, almost painfully hard, and he does the only thing that makes sense, something he has a hunch Tonks might like too, he palms himself over the fabric of his pants and gives himself a firm tug.

Tonks lets out a mumbled curse and her eyes get darker. She watches him silently before her eyes snap back to his eyes. She swallows.

“Keep going,” she orders in a whisper.

Harry’s heart leaps and he grins, insanely aroused by her reaction. He can see her desire for him in her features. Her eyes have a glazed-over look as they focus on his groin, her cheeks are pink with want and her red lips are slightly parted. 

He strokes himself a couple of times and hears his own breathing get deeper as his hips follow his hand automatically. The way Tonks watches him is incredibly erotic and this new, slightly exhibitionist side of himself is another discovery for Harry. But there’s no time to explore this new finding because Tonks’ eyes are _devouring_ him.

“I fucking love watching you touch yourself…” she says breathily after a short while, “but… I’ve been looking forward to doing it myself all morning,” she whispers, eyes rising to his face again as she moves closer.

Harry smirks but immediately places his hands on Tonks' waist instead. He’s definitely _not_ going to try and stop her; as _aphrodisiac_ as touching himself in front of her feels, he’d much rather feel _her_ hands on him. He can’t help but grin as Tonks’ lips descend on his and her body goes flush against his, her fingers directing his chin towards her lips. 

The kiss is different from the ones they have shared so far. It’s not urgent, but it’s not sweet either, it’s _erotic_.

She kisses him slowly, languidly, sucking his lower lip between hers gently, and making soft little noises at the back of her throat.

Harry feels dizzy and basks in the voluptuous and steamy kiss Tonks is bestowing upon him, feeling her fingers trail along his bare chest, down his abs, down down down, to his fly.

When she pulls away from his lips, Harry’s eyes are unfocused but the predatory quality in _hers_ , along with the sound of his belt buckle being unfastened makes his heart beat faster, harder, as if there is a sudden urgency to _live_.

Tonks looks up at him and with a mischievous grin, her fingers trail up his chest, toying with one of his nipples, twisting it, making Harry gasp and thrust his hips towards her automatically.

She smirks, her eyes boring into his as she slowly, so very slowly, lowers his pants and boxers under his hips.

Harry lets out a very soft sound as his erection bounces free and he feels cool air on his warm flesh.

Tonks’ eyes have hardly left his until now, but with a last long look and a provocative lick of her lips, she slowly, sensually, lowers herself to her knees, making her intentions quite plain. 

Harry can’t help but groan as a strong jolt of arousal runs through his body at the explicit gesture. His cock twitches in response to Tonks' close proximity and hungry gaze, to the knowledge of what she’s about to do to him. 

She’s driving him crazy. And she hasn’t even really touched him yet...

Her fingers trace his skin lightly from navel to cock, following the trail of dark hair there, and Harry shivers at her touch, extremely eager to get more but also wanting to savour every second of it. 

It’s thrilling to be so bare in front of Tonks, in front of a woman he trusts and desires with an illicit strength. It feels new, bold and _freeing_. It’s filling him with pleasant nervousness and his heart is hammering in his chest.

He realises he’s never been quite so naked in front of anyone except Ginny in… _ever,_ actually.

There is a satisfied smirk on Tonks’ face as Harry looks down at her, and he feels his chest fill with a mixture of pride and power. His fingers automatically reach for her hair, combing the steel blue locks behind her ear as he steps out of his trousers.

“You’re incredibly beautiful when you get on your knees,” he whispers.

Tonks looks up at him and bites her lip playfully before looking down again, and Harry is mesmerized by how she seems to be devouring him with her eyes.

And then it’s not just her eyes anymore.

Her tongue darts forward and slowly traces the length of his cock, from base to tip, making Harry hiss softly. She repeats the gesture several times before her lips part and she takes his tip into her mouth, sucking softly.

“Ahhh… yes,” hisses Harry, fingers entangling in blue steel locks. 

She looks up at him, the tip of his cock in her hot, velvety mouth, and there is something so _deviant_ about the look on her face, about those _red lips_ around his shaft that Harry groans aloud.

The clandestine vision of _Tonks_ sucking his cock...

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re hot, you’re so fucking hot right now.”

There is a small, primal, part of Harry that aches to grab her face and fuck her mouth but he wouldn't dare. This is her dance, her rhythm and he’s glad to let her keep doing exactly what she’s doing because it’s bloody _perfect_.

Tonks hums around the tip of his cock, her tongue dancing around it, pressing against his slit, and Harry exhales loudly. The warmth of her mouth feels exquisite and a tingling sensation rises throughout his whole body. 

He’s getting lost in this feeling of blissfulness when Tonks quite suddenly pulls away, and Harry’s hips automatically move to follow her.

“Eager, aren’t we?” she teases, looking up at him and Harry can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle because, _fuck yes_ , she’s driving him crazy.

He shivers as she fondles with his balls and watches, as Tonks’ fingers wrap around his base. Her lips trails along his shaft, her warm tongue designing slow patterns, before she takes it into her mouth again and starts bobbing her head slowly, her hand following the movement of her mouth.

Harry is in seventh heaven. 

His hips are moving of their own accord, gently following her rhythm. Warmth and pressure slowly grow in his loins and he can’t help but entangle his fingers deeper into her mane of hair as he moans.

“Oh yes… yes… just like that… ”

She starts bobbing her head a bit faster then, taking him deeper, and Harry’s eyes roll into the back of his skull. 

She completely owns him right now, making him vulnerable and strong at the same time. His entire body is in a cataclysmic state of patient urgency. 

His muscles tense, his stomach clenches and he feels his control slowly slipping away, hips automatically moving faster.

Tonks chokes and Harry mumbles an apology, thumb caressing her cheekbone reverently, even if the sensation of his cock hitting the back of her throat felt _amazing_. But instead of pulling back right away, she takes him deep into her throat again, watching him in the eye as she does, keeps him there and hums. And only _then_ , does she pull away, the wickedest of grins on her red lips.

“Holy-fucking... you’re killing me...” Harry groans, looking down at her with desperation in his eyes.

“Patience, Harry,” she teases, voice slightly hoarse.

The sound of her tired throaty voice only sends more jolts of arousal straight to his cock, and this time Harry has to use all of his self-restraint not to hold her bright pink hair and take control.

Tonks grabs his arse with both hands and pulls him back to her, lazily licking at his tip for a moment, before wrapping him into her velvety mouth again, bobbing her head rhythmically, her red lips tightly wrapped around his shaft.

Harry groans at the incredible sensation she’s bringing to him, and he knows he’s going to explode soon. His head falls back, his mouth hangs open and his fingers grip Tonks’ head firmly as his hips move in rhythm.

He’s about to utter a warning, to let her know he’s gonna come, when things are taken vastly out of his control; Tonks' fingers slithers behind his balls and start to firmly massage the area as she keeps her steady and fast rhythm around his cock. Too dumbstruck to do anything but moan in ecstasy, Harry feels one of her digit toy around his hole as her mouth moves more quickly and tightly around his cock. 

He sees stars. 

White lights blinding him, hips jerking convulsively, Harry explodes.

He’s vaguely aware that he’s being incredibly loud but there’s no stopping it, he pulses and jerks into Tonks’ mouth as she firmly holds him in place, nails digging into his arse cheeks.

When her touch becomes too much, Harry shivers and hisses and Tonks gently lets go of him, spits some of his semen into her sleeve, before looking up at him, slightly out of breath but with a satisfied grin on her face. 

“Fucking hell,” breathes Harry with wonder, “you are…this was…”

Tonks chuckles breathily at his incoherent rambling and winks before rising to her feet and placing a very soft kiss to his lips.

“I’m taking this _eloquent_ rambling as a _thank you Tonks, your blowjobs are mind-blowing_ ,” she teases.

Harry nods, eyes still wide and legs weak, and when Tonks laughs he grins a bit sheepishly. 

“Yeah…” he breathes in wonder “I’m not sure what happened towards the end but… definitely, yeah.”

Tonks lets out a short, amused laugh.

“Not used to a bit of arse play, Harry?” she teases.

Harry shakes his head from side to side, eyes lost into space, too dizzy to think.

“Well, I could tell,” she chuckles, evidently amused by his current speechlessness, “glad you liked it, though,” she winks.

And maybe it’s because he still feels very light-headed right now--Harry doesn’t blame himself, he just received the most incredible blowjob after all--but he reflects hazily that Tonks could make him forget his own name, and maybe that’s _exactly_ why he’s so attracted to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... that was a LOT of smut!
> 
> We'll get some Ron, Quidditch and Kingsley next chapter, as well as a long awaited trip to Boston ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Escape

The Harpies are playing Puddlemere United this weekend for their first game of the season, and Ginny needs to train with her team. This means she’s staying in the northwest of Wales and Harry spends the next three days at home, caring for his son. 

Molly usually cares for James when Harry and Ginny are both working, but whenever he can, Harry takes time off, spends some quality time with his son and brings him to the Quidditch game to watch his mother play on Sundays.

Nappies and tantrums aside, this is the perfect opportunity for Harry to have some fun with his son and enjoy a father-son moment. Ice cream is involved--even if the sun is still being shy this spring--as well as enchanted dragons toys.

On Sunday, James cheers with his dad, going cross-eyed as he tries to follow the blur that is his mother around the pitch, and chews on his father’s Holyhead’s scarf while his uncle Ron yells unsolicited advice to his sister.

Ginny is exceptionally good today, and Harry can only feel pride swell in his chest at the view. She’s been so worried that her year off caring for James might alter her flying, but look at her now!

Her pretty hair flying behind her, she flies and spins like a fiery hurricane, scoring and grinning madly. 

She is a  _ sight _ .

She’s always been beautiful of course, even if it took Harry a bit longer than others to notice. 

And clearly, others are still very much noticing.

Over the years, Harry has learned to ignore his wife’s fans. They are a cheery bunch, no doubt, but some of the  _ male  _ fans are slightly too enthusiastic and descriptive in their admiration for Ginny. 

Harry  _ gets it _ , of course, he does--he’s married to the woman--he doesn’t need to hear crude comments from rowdy blokes to know that his wife is  _ fit _ . 

He isn’t jealous. Not anymore, not really. He’s learned to deal with his wife’s passionate and  _ vocal  _ male fans. Admittedly, it took some time and a few painful rows with Ginny, but he’s learned to handle it and not go all - _ Auror-Harry-Potter _ \- on them.

But as he watches her flying, holding tightly onto a slightly over-excited James in his arms, Harry can’t help but inwardly curse the randy teenager in the box below when he eloquently observes that Ginny  _ “probably knows how to ride all-sorts-of-sticks with such a nice piece of arse” _ , wishing he could stick his wand to the bloke’s throat and silence him forever.

_ Right _ .

“I thought Hermione needed you today?” Harry asks Ron, forcing himself to redirect his thoughts before he makes an embarrassing show of himself.

Ron shrugs and doesn’t take his eyes off the game. Whether he’s deliberately ignoring the crude things said about his sister or too focused on the score to notice, Harry doesn’t know.

“Apparently my fingers lack the _finesse_ to work on wedding decorations,” answers Ron, over the deafening sound of the crowd, “whatever _that_ means. She and Fleur kicked me out. I’m really not complaining.”

Harry chuckles. Oh, he can definitely picture it, Hermione going crazy over the organization of her wedding and Ron just being in the way.

“Was Ginny  _ this  _ obsessed with flowers and garlands?” asks Ron, rubbing his hands together against the friskiness of the morning.

“Oh yeah,” nods Harry gravely, “but Hermione kicked her out too at some point, sent her outside for fresh air and the two of us ended up playing Quidditch in the garden instead.”

“Lucky man,” sighs Ron, “serves me right for falling in love with an absolute control freak,” he says fondly, stopping to cheer loudly as Ginny scores again.

“Damn, she’s good today,” comments Ron in mild admiration, shaking his head slowly. “Never thought a wedding would be such a big deal,” he says, resuming the conversation, “please tell me it’s only fun and sex after, Harry,” he finishes, chuckling.

“Oh yeah, marriage and kids are definitely a picnic, mate,” snorts Harry.

Ron sniggers, but as his eyes land on his nephew and godson, there is such fondness in them that Harry can’t help but smile. It’s no secret Ron wants kids, it’s no secret either that Hermione is the one slowing things down in order to forge her career first. 

When Ron left the Auror force, over a year ago, Harry felt foiled and left behind. It had never occurred to him that he would ever be separated from Ron, especially after the war and their common career choices. 

The shadow of Fred would always hang heavily on the Weasley family, but Ron had moved through his grief in his own way, and once he’d put the last Death Eater behind bars  _ himself _ , he’d immediately quit his job as an Auror. 

_ “I think I can move on now,” _ he’d said to a gobsmacked Harry. 

And clearly, he had. 

Gone was the envious Ron, the insecure teenager he used to be. He had healed and grown into a confident and successful man, finally at ease with his own feelings. He had found balance in his relationship with Hermione and their love was a beautiful thing to witness.

Harry wishes he could be as balanced and  _ fixed  _ as Ron.

After the war, Harry had rushed into everything. He’d resumed his relationship with Ginny at once, participated in the organization of the new world the best he could, and immediately signed up at the Auror Academy. 

He never once stopped to  _ breathe _ . 

Ginny had tried to make him slow down at first, but she’d soon understood that Harry needed to feel useful in order to function. 

Marriage had followed and after a couple of years, James was born, and Harry was so happy that he thought he’d finally found peace. 

He had, for some time. 

But his dormant fears and traumas were never really erased and even though Harry cannot pinpoint the exact moment it happened, he knows  _ something  _ switched in him quite recently. 

Something indefinite that makes him constantly swing between deep and overwhelming fear and the urgent need to  _ live _ . Which would be easy enough to explain knowing his current arrangement with Tonks, except it had all started  _ before  _ this crazy, messy, consuming affair with Tonks even began.

From his top box, just above the masses of Holyheads most dedicated fans, Harry watches as his wife scores her team’s sixteenth goal.

His feeling of unworthiness suddenly becomes overwhelming and Harry has to take a deep breath as Ron, completely oblivious to his best friends’ distress, roars in delighted laughter as one of Ginny’s teammates ducks a bludger in a weird, comical spin.

Harry presses a long, tender kiss to his son's forehead, holding him a bit tighter than necessary, and closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to stop the whirlwind of feelings in him, fighting to  _ breathe _ . 

_ Enough _ .

He forces his eyes on the game again, on his amazing wife, who looks like she can do nothing wrong today. 

He misses her. 

And when she lands in the top box half an hour later, muddy but beaming victoriously as she hugs and kisses her family, Harry can’t help but smile at her, stomping his guilt deeper. 

He  _ has  _ to live in the present and enjoy each moment of true happiness before they’re gone. 

After all, it’s the only thing he’s truly ever known how to do.

  
  


*** 

The Atrium is packed as Harry steps out of the fireplace on Monday, late afternoon, and makes his way through the crowd, his Auror robes billowing behind him. 

He glances at his watch--Fabian Prewett’s old heirloom is a bit battered and Harry had to repair the glass several times but he’s very fond of it--and starts walking faster. He spent most of the day with Morrisson, collecting testimonies about supposed dangerous potions being traded up in Liverpool, and he’s late for his meeting with the Minister. 

“Harry!” booms Kinglsey warmly a minute later when Harry lets himself into the top office. Harry shakes hands with the Minister, glances around the room and discovers with a start of surprise that Robards and Tonks are  _ also  _ here.

A jolt of panic goes through him as he glances at Tonks. She’s sitting on the edge of Kingsley’s desk and looking down, at the floor, decidedly not meeting his eyes.  _ What the fuck is going on? _

“Kingsley,” smiles Harry, a bit tightly, politely nodding towards Robards and Tonks, trying to ignore his growing panic. This can’t be about  _ them _ , it can’t… “You asked to see me?”

“Yes, Harry, there is something we need to discuss with you,” says Kinglsey.

The smiles on Kingsley and Robards’ faces ease Harry’s discomfort a bit but he’s still very anxious to know what this is all about.

Robards is the one to talk next, and there is warmth in his tone.

“Harry, we would like--in the name of the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement--to officially name you  _ Senior Auror _ .”

Harry gapes. 

_ A promotion? _

He glances at Tonks and now she’s beaming at him, eyes twinkling and Harry can’t help but let out a relieved breath. When he doesn’t answer though, Kingsley looks at him with an amused smile on his face.

“It is largely overdue, Harry. You’ve been exceptionally proficient these past few years and this is  _ without  _ taking into account your role during the war,” he finishes gravely.

“Blimey,” breathes Harry, “Are you--are you sure?”

“Always the modest one,” chuckles Kingsley.

“You’re top-notch mate, seriously,” says Tonks, grinning madly, “I was dying to tell you this morning but Kings wanted to make this grand official announcement.”

“This won’t change your daily routine much, Harry,” starts Robards, in a more businesslike tone, “you’ll have your own office and a significant pay raise, of course. You will take part in the Senior meetings, assign tasks and files to juniors, and fully qualified Aurors. You will be the team leader on the field. And, naturally, when the new recruits come in, in September, you’ll get your own junior to train.”

“Some lucky junior, I might add,” winks Kingsley fondly.

“Please just keep this private for now, Harry,” says Robards, “we have several other appointments to make and there will be an official party at Headquarters to celebrate, later on. You can tell your wife, of course,” he finishes kindly, patting Harry’s shoulder affectionately.

Harry is still a bit speechless but his heart is beating at a steadier pace again.

“Well… Thanks,” he grins awkwardly, not sure what else to say, “I’m honoured.”

Kingsley snorts. “ _ We _ are the ones honoured to have you, Harry!”

***

“You look stunned,” says Tonks as she closes the door of her office.

“That’s because I am!”

“Well, don’t be, unless you’re fishing for more compliments,” she winks.

“But I’m so much younger than any of the seniors!”

Tonks raises an eyebrow at him and Harry feels his face flush slightly, realising what he just implied.

“I mean… Not you- the others, they’re-”

Tonks interrupts him with a laugh.

“It’s fine! I’m thirty-two, not ancient!” she snorts, “You’re almost twenty-five, Harry, and _I_ was only twenty-six when I got the Senior badge after the war…”

Well, when she puts it this way… After all, Harry can’t deny he’s worked his arse off these past few years. He was very young when he moved on from Junior to fully qualified and becoming a Senior is the logical path. Harry is not used to handling compliments and recognition very well but he’s feeling less and less conflicted about this promotion by the minute. 

_ Yes _ , he has worked hard for it, and he wants it.

“Just take it, Harry,” says Tonks, rolling her eyes with amused exasperation, “you deserve it. End of the question.”

Harry nods, a bit sheepishly before the grin he’s been fighting off splits his face. Tonks is looking at him, a radiant smile on her face and he’s feeling happy, extremely happy, in a celebratory mood, one might say.

He stands from the desk and walks towards her slowly. She’s smiling, and when he puts his hands on her waist, she lets out a breathy laugh and Harry just wants to kiss her, touch her, bask in his euphoria with her.

So, he does just that. He kisses her slowly, languidly, feeling his whole body ignite as they make out, irresistibly reminded of the last time they were in her office for other purposes than work, and how she’d turned his brains into mush with her mind-blowing blowjob.

“I think I want to celebrate with you  _ now _ , not-ancient-witch,” he whispers teasingly into her ear. 

Tonks lets out an amused snort but gently pulls away from him, Harry’s fingers still gripping her waist.

“I can’t,” she says very softly, and Harry feels a sudden shard of ice through his stomach. He lets go of her waist quickly and takes a step back.

“It’s… it’s the full moon tonight,” whispers Tonks, “I need to be there for Remus before joining mum and Teddy at her place-”

“Of course!” nods Harry, his cheeks flaming, “shit, of course. I’m sorry. I forgot,” he apologizes.

“It’s alright,” says Tonks, glancing at the floor, “just… family first, you know.”

Harry nods again, feeling shameful and cold.

“Hey, don’t look like that,” she suddenly says, more heartily, “you just got promoted. This is  _ good _ , you deserve this, okay? Seriously, there’s no one I trust more than you...”

Harry can’t help but feel grateful towards her for trying to cheer him up, but he doesn’t manage to properly look at her until he hears her whisper  _ “we’ll celebrate in Boston…” _ , her lips against the shell of his ear, fingers squeezing his forearm gently.

She winks and leaves him standing alone in her office, in a strange state of guilt  _ and  _ arousal.

***

Harry and Tonks leave for Boston four days later. The sun is bright in the sky, summer is definitely around the corner and ever since his promotion, Harry is feeling  _ happy _ .

Ginny’s mood is festive and joyful when she hears about it but they don’t get much time to celebrate. What with the kick-off of her season with the Harpies, she’s away a lot and Harry knows it will last all summer. It’s pretty hard for her to leave James, so Harry does all he can to support her and reassure her.

Still, Harry feels light and unrestricted as he steps out of the fireplace of the Boston offices. The feeling of utter freedom and excitement is back in full force, stomping his fears deeper inside him, and he can’t deny he wants to bask in it, swim in it, get lost in it.

When the door of Tonks’ room closes and locks with a faint but distinct “click” behind them, it’s all Harry needs before he’s grinning uncontrollably, eyes glinting as he glances at his partner.

Tonks takes off her heavy boots, revealing black and yellow striped socks, and yawns widely as she sinks into a fluffy armchair.

“If Roger gives me any more of his crap tomorrow, I swear I’m going to hex his freaking moustache off his face,” she grumbles, “might be doing him a favour actually,” she adds as an afterthought.

Harry chuckles. “What’s the matter? You don’t like being told how to properly write a report,  _ Nymphadooora _ ?” teases Harry in a passable imitation of Roger’s gravelly voice and patronizing tone.

Harry laughs and easily ducks as a black, heavy and muddy boot is thrown at his face. 

“ _ Don’t  _ call me Nymphadora!” she growls, eyes narrowed and Harry bites back another laugh.

As a second boot flies around the room, Harry ducks again and pounces on Tonks, grabbing her waist and throwing her on to the bed, his body landing heavily on hers. Tonks squeals and soon they are both laughing, struggling and eventually kissing passionately.

They are  _ alone _ . Truly alone. For a  _ whole night _ !

Harry slides his knee between Tonks’ legs, eager to turn their alone time into something very celebrative with the help of Tonks’ warm and sexy body. It doesn’t take more than that for things to become intense as Tonks arches under him.

“I’ve been waiting all week to get you  _ right here _ ,” groans Harry, as he licks Tonks’ earlobe.

“Then don’t waste any more of our time and get me out of my clothes,” she breathes back.

They share a very intense look before Harry slowly starts unbuttoning Tonks’ shirt. He’s feeling the pressing need to feel her naked skin against his, and yet he’s being determinedly patient as he slowly unfastens each button of her shirt, as if he were opening a present. 

He’s been waiting for weeks to properly undress her; he doesn’t want to rush it. Time is everything they have not been able to get so far and Harry won’t waste this opportunity.

As more and more skin is revealed to him, he can’t help but look, hypnotized, at the body he’s been so obsessed with. 

Tonks’ bra is revealed, a neon pink fabric that clashes shockingly with her bright, turquoise hair and Harry grins.

“I might go blind if I don’t take these off you right now,” he chuckles, grinning when Tonks swats his arm playfully. 

He starts kissing her again, fingers gently tugging at her bra straps and the mood quickly changes. He can feel her hands sliding under his shirt urgently, mapping his shoulders, following the curve of his spine, caressing the small of his back and finishing on his arse, gently squeezing the flesh there. A soft sigh escapes her throat, and Harry immediately understands what she wants.

He sits up and slowly takes his shirt off, feeling his chest swell with pride and heat when Tonks’ eyes instantly darken as she overtly checks out his frame. He can’t help but grin at the unguarded desire in her eyes. Their current situation alone should be proof enough to assert that she finds him attractive but nothing beats that look in her eyes.

More clothes are discarded and soon her breasts are revealed to him, and, for a moment, Harry zones out, contemplating her luxuriously full and soft mounds, her inviting pretty rosy nipples, and goosebumps rise on Tonks’ skin under his stare.

His lips descend on her with a soft groan and Harry takes his time, kissing, nipping, and licking one of her breasts, starting on the underside and moving up, avoiding her nipple until she’s hissing and pushing her bust up eagerly.

“Harry,” she breathes impatiently, “please…”

Hearing her pleading is new and surprising and definitely very arousing. Harry grins against her skin, his mouth watering. His slow, torturous pace is delicious but he aches to hear her moan for him. His lips close around one of her nipples and he relishes in Tonks’ gasp of pleasure. 

He flicks his tongue sinfully around her pert nipple, glancing up at her, his fingers holding her flesh tightly and Tonks’ lets out the deep sensual moan he’s been looking for.

And when he switches breasts, giving the same attention to her other nipple, Tonks’ fingers clutch at his hair to keep him in place.

When Harry resurfaces, he’s blinded by pink. 

Waist long and slightly wavy pink hair is spread over the pillow, and Harry kisses her lips again, hungrily, ensnared by her, feeling immensely privileged.

“You’re…  _ beautiful _ ,” he tells her, trying to silence the very faint voice at the back of his mind telling him that this is wrong, this is too romantic, this doesn’t sound right.

Tonks’ body seems to tense very briefly, maybe his tone was  _ too much _ for her too, and Harry slowly kisses his way down her body to break the intensity of this misplaced, uncharacteristically romantic, fleeting moment.

And when his tongue dips into her navel and she moans, Harry knows he’s successfully redirected her thoughts. 

His fingers slowly work at the buttons of her jeans and he gently pulls them down, off her legs, struggling a bit when one of her ankles get stuck in them and Tonks chuckles lightly.

He sends her a mock glare but doesn’t waste more time before taking his own jeans off and climbing back on the bed, kissing his way up one of her legs. Those legs... long and strong, but also fleshy in a very mouth-watering way. 

Harry loves the curves of Tonks’ strong and voluptuous body. 

When he reaches the back of her knee, tongue tracing light patterns on her skin, Tonks shivers and her hips raise slightly, and Harry knows she’s impatient again, eager to get more, eager for his touch where she most craves it. But the slightly competitive, teasing side of him is in charge now and Harry fully intends on hearing her beg again.

His mouth travels up, completely ignoring the black knickers still on her body, and Harry nips at the soft skin of her hips, loving the way they answer to his touch by rising slightly from the bed. Tonks’ breathing is laboured, restless.

“Harry… please,” she moans impatiently, “I’m going to strap  _ you  _ to the bed if you don’t start touching me now!”

Harry’s eyes darken at her words and after a last lick to the soft skin just over the waistband of her knickers, he gently hooks his fingers around the side of them and glances at Tonks, a wicked grin on his face.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.”

Tonks bites her lip and suppresses a grin, but then her knickers are sliding down her legs and she hums appreciatively as Harry eases her thighs apart and lowers himself to his stomach between them.

_ Alright _ . 

If Harry’s being honest--and he’s seen brief flashes during these past few weeks but he wasn’t completely sure-- some part of him  _ always  _ kind of wondered… 

And the answer is  _ yes _ . 

She’s the same colour down there that her hair is… Which is her favourite bright pink right now, like a sweet juicy dragon fruit he can’t wait to suck into his mouth.

But he won’t  _ just  _ yet. 

No, instead, Harry peppers the delicate skin of her thighs with kisses, bites down gently on the soft flesh there. He’s got to admit he has a thing for her thighs… the suppleness of them, how soft and strong they are, and the creamy delicate skin of them. He slowly drags his tongue up along Tonks’ inner thigh, to the crease between her legs. They automatically part a bit wider, exposing her beautifully, and Harry lets out a low groan before giving a first, teasing lick to her lovely cunt.

Tonks exhales loudly at this first teasing touch, and Harry can feel her eyes on him. There’s impatience in the way her chest heaves when he doesn’t immediately repeat the gesture. Instead, he inhales deeply the bubblegum scent of her and hums very softly, feeling his cock twitch.

“Damn, you smell good enough to  _ eat _ ,” he tells her, voice hoarse and mouth wet.

Tonks lets out a whimper and Harry knows he’s tortured her enough. She’s been uncharacteristically patient, so patient that he wants to reward her immediately.

His tongue traces her nether lips gently, parting them the rest of the way and then he’s kissing her centre, open-mouthed, lips and tongue on her, filling his mouth with her taste, filling his ears with her soft moans and his eyes roll back into his skull.

He circles her clit with his tongue gently, patiently, sucks her soft inner lips and laps at her entrance, eager to ignite all of her most sensitive places. The taste of her is new, sweet and incredibly arousing and when Harry’s tongue dive into her tight centre, Tonks’ moans echo around the room, her fingers tug at his hair, she pushes his mouth closer, deeper into her and Harry reflects he can never get enough of  _ that _ .

Slowly, gradually, he feels her going up, her little gasp of pleasure turn into gratifying deep moans and her legs start shaking. 

Harry relentlessly licks her clit, sucks it into his mouth and circles it again, his own hot breath and her scent making the area incredibly lush, until Tonks is squeezing his head between her thighs and crying out as she comes under his tongue.

The sound of her climax is beautiful music to Harry’s ears and he savours it, incredibly turned on, cheek pillowed against the smooth skin of Tonks’ supple thigh.

She slowly comes down from her orgasm, unusually silent but breathing heavily, and Harry gives her a minute to recover, caressing her legs gently.

At last, he stands, takes his boxers off and looks down at her.

“More?” he simply asks.

Tonks smiles and nods. With a grin, Harry climbs on top of her and immediately presses inside her, the wetness and tightness welcoming him making him groan low in bliss.

“Gods you’re wet, so fucking wet and tight for me!” he hisses as he starts slowly thrusting into her.

“You feel so fucking good...” she moans, fingers gripping his shoulders and Harry gets lost in his own pleasure, thrusting and hissing each time he bottoms out inside of her.

When Tonks slaps his arse to urge him faster not long after, Harry gasps in surprised pleasure, and the urgency wins. Hooking both her legs over his shoulders, he starts pounding into her with abandon.

“Oh fuck,” gasps Tonks, lips parted and eyes rolling back, “I love it when you are rough with me.”

Harry can only grunt in answer, too far gone to form words. It’s not long before he’s spilling his seed inside her, gasping for breath as his climax shatters him.

***

Dinner-time finds Harry and Tonks dressed and sitting on the floor, eating pizza directly over the carton box, too busy and tired to go out for dinner. The mood is studious as they read files and occasionally comment on facts and it’s not until Harry yawns for the third time that Tonks looks up.

“You should go to sleep.”

“Actually, what I really need is a shower,” he answers, palm rubbing his chin absentmindedly.

Tonks’ head cocks to the side and she seems suddenly somewhere else entirely as she looks at him. It takes Harry another two seconds to understand where her mind just went before it clicks.

He grins wickedly at her and stands up, taking her hand to lift her from the floor. He wordlessly leads her to the bathroom and runs the water in the shower. He looks at her then, one eyebrow raised in question as he starts to slowly undress, and feels a jolt in his stomach when Tonks grins and quickly takes her shirt off.

The shower is out of hot water before they are done exploring each other’s bodies under the spray and they both run back into the bedroom, naked and laughing, to the bed.

Tonks pushes Harry to his back and straddles him, not wasting any time before aligning his cock between her folds and sinking down on him with a wanton moan. 

She takes her turn in torturing him deliciously, riding him slowly and sensually. Harry’s hands are holding her waist lightly, not asking for control but encouraging each of her downstrokes. He’s hypnotized by the view of er, naked and moving over him, water from the shower dripping from her long pink hair and in the valley between her breasts. 

Soon it becomes too much and he tries to sit up and take control, only to be shoved back against the bed roughly and watch as a wicked grin appears on Tonks’ face. Harry surrenders with a desperate moan and hisses as she arches her back and resumes her sweet torture. 

It’s not long after that he’s begging incoherently and only  _ then  _ does she start to sink harder, faster on him until he sees stars and explodes with a shuddering moan.

Utterly and deliciously spent, Harry feels his eyes close and forces himself up a few minutes later, when a yawning Tonks mumbles  _ “bed” _ next to him. 

Harry plants a gentle kiss on her temple, easing a lock of pink behind her ear and silently makes his way back to his own room.

It feels a bit weird to lay alone in the dark when minutes ago he was still wrapped in Tonks’ warmth but the alternative feels too intimate. Even if Harry would rather not think too much about  _ what  _ they are actually doing, he knows cuddling in bed can  _ not _ be part of it.

***

Harry only sleeps a couple of hours before he wakes up from a nightmare that he can’t remember at all but leaves him restless and unable to fall back asleep. Before he can think too much about it, he silently makes his way back to Tonks’ room, as if pulled towards her by an invisible force and unwilling to resist it.

He’s welcomed by a wand to his throat.

“You scared the shit out of me!” breathes Tonks.

“Sorry,” swallows Harry, feeling the tip of her wand retreating from his windpipe, “you were awake?” he asks, noticing that her turquoise hair doesn’t look dishevelled enough for someone supposed to be sleeping.

“Yeah… head’s too full,” she confesses in a whisper.

Her words make him slightly uncomfortable, and Harry knows he has a choice then.

He can ignore them, crack a joke and go back to his room. Or he can respect her enough to ask about it. 

There really isn’t a choice.

“Do you-” he clears his throat, heart hammering in his chest, “do you want to talk about it?”

“I… I don’t think I can,” she whispers faintly.

He looks at her for a long moment, trying to read her, feeling very conflicted. She doesn’t look okay.

“Tonks…”

“Harry, don’t.” 

She shakes her head from side to side and goes back under the sheets, effectively closing the subject. And even if Harry is inwardly shamefully relieved that she doesn’t want to talk any more than he really wants to, he’s also lost for what to do next. 

Should he leave her alone? Should he force her to talk? Force  _ himself _ to talk?

But confronting Tonks’ guilt would mean letting his own enter this room and the idea seems insurmountable. 

They need an escape from their thoughts, an efficient one. 

So, Harry opts for a third approach. A very straightforward one.

“There are only two hours left before your bloody alarm is gonna ring,” he says slowly, ”wanna fuck some more ‘til we can’t think straight?”

He knows it’s incredibly blunt and very risky, the line between sexy and rude is thin right now, but he goes with his hunch.

A reluctant grin slowly graces Tonks’ features and Harry feels a relieved one appear on his face. 

She needs the distraction too, badly, however wrong it is.

“So much stamina, Harry?” she teases quietly.

“I’m a young, healthy bloke. What can I say?” he chuckles.

“Come here,” breathes Tonks, peeling the sheets off in invitation.

Underwears are quickly discarded and their warm skins meet. They get lost in each other’s arms, lips on lips, and Harry feels Tonks breathe against his lips:

”Please,  _ please  _ help me keep this only about sex, Harry. It’s fucking wrong enough as it is… Just make me feel good, fuck me silly, yeah?”

There is such vulnerability in her whispered words that Harry lets out a shuddering breath, feeling his eyes burn. He feels like there are a lot of implicated things in her words but he can’t translate them into solid thoughts, all he knows is that they unsettle him. 

He embraces her tightly and gets lost in the feel of her until lust effectively replaces emotions. 

Tonks is nipping at his abs, going down slowly with clear intentions in her mind, focused on her lust as if her life depended on it, when Harry gently redirects her up, encouraging her to straddle his torso instead. Despite what he said a few minutes ago, he’s aware he’s already pushed his body to exhaustion twice that night, but mostly, he really wants to make  _ her  _ feel good.

“I want you to use my face,” he whispers.

Tonks’ eyebrows rise on her forehead but she seems welcomely surprised by his bold invitation and slowly inches her way up, until Harry’s nose is buried into pink curls for the second time that night.

She starts rocking her hips gently then, bracing herself against the headboard, rubbing herself against Harry’s lips, his nose, his wet tongue. And before long, she’s moaning loudly and rocking her hips faster, her juices coating Harry’s chin.

“Mmm… yeah, that’s it, fuck my face,” he mumbles, diving his tongue into her folds and gripping her hips tightly, his cock filling rapidly.

She comes, gasping and sweating over Harry’s face not long after, collapsing next to him, breathless and beaming and Harry can’t help but hope he successfully fulfilled her veiled request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it.


	9. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry, the wedding has been postponed because THIS happened.

Harry doesn’t see much of his wife for the next couple of weeks as the Quidditch season is well underway, and he misses her terribly. 

James takes his first step on a Sunday, right after the match, grinning proudly at his mother and father as he wobbles on his feet. 

Harry cheers and beams at his son and it’s not before he’s in bed that night, alone in the dark, that an unidentified dread fills him and he gasps for air, unable to properly breathe until the first lights of the next day.

He  _ knows  _ there is something wrong with him and that Ginny’s absence is only making it worse. 

Being without her presence at night makes more of Harry’s oldest fears reappear and even if he is aware that what he’s doing with Tonks is pure betrayal, he can’t help but--like a drug addict--seek oblivion against her warm body anytime he gets overwhelmed by his feelings, which seems to be happening more and more.

Indeed, ever since Boston, there’s hardly a workday without any sort of sexual encounter between Harry and Tonks. 

Tonks is back to her fierce self, initiating at least as many of their trysts as Harry. The brief and unusual vulnerability she showed in Boston has been erased in favour of more complicity, more trust, more sex,  _ more _ . 

The lust between them, far from abating, is reaching new levels and each time Harry buries his cock into Tonks’ warmth, he feels blissfully empty and free. He has yet to find Tonks’ sexual boundaries and he trusts her fully with that darker side of him, however insanely  _ dirty  _ he sometimes feels while they shag. 

Sex with Tonks is often wild and incredibly satisfying. It’s blissful oblivion and Harry  _ needs  _ it.

She’s often the one to suggest new levels of kinkiness and Harry can only oblige, grateful to be able to forget himself with a very enthusiastic and imaginative partner who encourages him to own his desires.

_ Two days earlier: _

There’s something wrong with Tonks’ arse today. 

Or maybe there’s just something--many somethings--very wrong with Harry.

Yet, he’s almost convinced--from previous careful observations--that today, Tonks’ arse looks different; curvier, firmer, filling her trousers out perfectly and making it impossible to look away. 

Harry is devoutly thankful that he hasn’t got any fieldwork with her today. He’s not sure he’d be able to keep his eyes away from her arse and not endanger them both.

The view is incredible, to be honest, and Harry is reminded of his teenage years, when he would suddenly get hard from the slightest glance of a pretty body part. It’s almost embarrassing how much he longs to grab Tonks’ hips and bury himself inside of her. 

He’s so obsessed with her arse all morning that he starts wondering if she might have morphed it just to drive him crazy. 

She definitely would be capable of doing that, the  _ saucy witch _ .

Harry struggles to keep his eyes on his work and when noon finally arrives, he watches, foiled and frustrated, as Tonks grabs her cloak and leaves the office to have lunch with Malfoy, without a backwards glance at him.

Fucking Malfoy!

Of course, Harry knows the cousins are friendly now. It took years and many proofs of good faith from Narcissa and Draco before Tonks agreed to connect at all. Draco is a freelancer potionner for the Ministry and also a tutor for muggleborns at Hogwarts, one of the ways he proved his redemption after the war. Harry’s relationship with him is a bit distant but polite when they meet.

As far as Harry is concerned right now, Malfoy is just an annoying  _ ferret _ standing in the way of his gateway to sex.

Harry frowns, glancing down at his lap and wishing his erection would quiet down. Apparently, he’s not getting laid today, and he should get used to the idea. Their sexy encounters are not on schedule and some days it’s impossible or simply not meant to happen. 

But as the afternoon unrolls, every time Harry looks up, Tonks’ arse is  _ right there _ , stealing his thoughts away from his files, sending all his blood south until he’s forced to take a short, slightly humiliating, but relieving, break in the bathroom.

Needless to say, the day moves so slowly that Harry starts wondering if time turners are involved.

So, when Tonks finally presses against him hours later in her office--an unexpected and pleasant surprise--Harry’s hands automatically wander to her arse, squeezing the flesh tightly through her trousers, and he groans deeply. 

Merlin, it definitely  _ is  _ rounder, firmer, so…  _ fuckable _ .

Tonks is watching his face carefully, a curious look in her eyes.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, right at this moment,” she demands, her tone carrying amused inquisitiveness.

Harry lets out a dark chuckle.

“You don’t wanna know,” he snorts, hands roving over her backside shamelessly.

Tonks bites her lip and only looks more curious and delighted than before. She thrusts herself against his body, feeling his hardness pressing into her hip and smirks at Harry’s soft hiss.

“I wanna hear your darkest thoughts, oh Chosen One, defender of the light,” she teases.

Harry groans and gives her a warning look. Despite his relieving break earlier, he’s extremely horny again.

“Alright,” he says, too worked up to keep the thought to himself any longer anyway, “you’ve been driving me crazy all day… I had to… do something I hadn't done at work for a very,  _ very  _ long time… it’s pretty embarrassing,” he snorts, not bothering to blush at his admission.

“Oh really?” grins Tonks, eyes gleaming like a devil and looking delighted, “and  _ what  _ exactly made you so horny that you couldn’t wait, Mister Potter?”

Harry bites his lip, feeling a bit hesitant to voice out his desire so crudely. But when Tonks pulls his hips closer and grinds herself against him, he snaps.

“That arse,” he groans, “I want to  _ fuck  _ that arse, like, really bad” he breathes out, squeezing her buttcheeks tightly as he speaks.

Tonks’ eyebrows rise on her forehead before she slowly pulls away from him.

“My arse, Harry?” she repeats, looking so scandalized that Harry instantly deflates.

“Well… I mean, I… it’s not… of course we don’t have to, I’ve never tried it and I don’t know if… I just...” Harry says lamely, feeling his face flush.

Now,  _ this  _ is embarrassing, and Harry reflects that he’s finally found Tonks’ sexual boundaries.

But after a few endless seconds of painful silence, Tonks’ frown relaxes, her composure crumbles, and she lets out a breathy laugh, looking at him like he’s stupid and Harry knows she’s been playing him.

“You naughty witch!” he hisses through his pout, squeezing her arse and bringing her body against his again.

“Sorry,” she breathes out, resting her forehead against his shoulder as she shakes in silent laughter, “couldn’t help messing with your pretty blushing face and virgin manners.”

Harry snorts and shakes his head.

“Stop laughing, you crazy woman,” he demands, feeling a grin tugging uncontrollably at his lips. 

Tonks looks up at him, a broad, amused smile on her lips and Harry kisses her fondly. She’s too cheeky and fun to be mad at. Her lips are warm and inviting under his and it doesn’t take long before the kiss escalates.

“I’m game, if you want to…” breathes Tonks against his lips.

Harry’s breath catches in his throat at her words, and he kisses her more deeply, feeling his whole body heating.

“Yeah… I’d really like that…” he swallows, fingers clutching at her backside.

It’s quite late and the offices are almost empty except for a few last over-enthusiastic juniors. Harry retrieves his wand from his pocket without breaking the kiss and sends silent spells to the door, making it impossible for anyone to enter the office or hear what’s happening inside.

He grabs Tonks’ waist and gently drops her on her desk, immediately finding his place in the warmth between her legs. He briefly breaks their kiss to unbutton her trousers, struggling to take them off her legs, the usual clumsy process making both of them laugh.

When she’s bare from the waist down, Harry gently caresses her legs, fingers trailing up along her thighs and to her hips, admiring her, and he freezes.

There’s something there. On her hips.

There are small, faint fingertip-shaped bruises on her skin that Harry is pretty sure  _ he  _ didn’t put there. 

They are barely noticeable and don’t look painful, Tonks probably didn’t even notice them or she would have morphed them away. 

But they are the very clear reminder that this woman is not  _ his _ , and that she has a husband that clearly  _ does  _ deliver the roughness she so often craves.

Tonks’ eyes are closed, there is a grin on her lips as Harry’s hands trail on her skin. She’s completely oblivious to his discovery and enjoying the moment. 

After a strange pause, Harry lets his fingers trail down again, choosing to ignore the bruises altogether and shutting out his brains by burying his face in Tonks’ breasts. 

He wants her and he can have her, and that’s what matters. 

He pulls her closer to the edge of the desk, glances at the pink curls of her centre and kneels between her legs.

“Oh, fuck yes!” grins Tonks, delighted by his clear intentions.

He doesn’t wait to start eating her out, needing the distraction too much, too aroused to take it slow and determined to make her come before they move on to the initial plan.

He’s feeling pleasurably nervous and incredibly turned on. He’s never had anal sex before but Tonks seems at ease with the concept, and he trusts her to guide him through it. 

Harry buries his face between her legs, licking her entrance and holding her legs over his shoulders. She gasps and arches against his mouth and Harry slowly eases two fingers inside her, coating them with her arousal. She curses profusely, and Harry can’t help but grin against her cunt. He knows she often likes it dirty, in words and acts. 

The idea spurs him on and he slowly retrieves his fingers, sliding them further back. 

“I’ve been having the filthiest thoughts all day, you have no idea,” he hisses against her warmth.

He circles her rear entrance and watches as she smirks down at him.

“Can’t wait to see them in action,” she breathes.

His finger breaches her, and Tonks’ hips jerk against his face as she gasps. He gives her clit a wide and generous, rewarding lick and she moans appreciatively.

She’s  _ tight _ . Way tighter than Harry expected and he almost feels dizzy with arousal. He can’t imagine how glorious she’s going to feel around his cock. 

Pushing a second finger inside her, he very gently explores her, focusing on her entrance, slowly stretching her open, loving the way she pulls at his hair harshly when he dives his tongue into her centre at the same time.

“Holy shit, Harry! Oh fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!” she grits between her teeth, voice breaking.

And then, she is. 

Harry feels her spasm  _ everywhere _ . Around his tongue, around his fingers and it’s almost too much for him and he closes his eyes and tries to redirect his thoughts as she moans repeatedly. He’s too afraid to join her in her ecstasy, the whole experience insanely hot and he has to think about very unattractive things to stop himself from coming right away.

When he pulls away, panting and wiping his chin, Tonks is laying back on the desk, her chest rising heavily, one arm thrown over her face.

“My God, that was incredible,” she breathes, “you are fucking incredible,” she adds, glancing at him and Harry can only look at her with dark eyes. “I’m really, really fucking ready for you now, you have no idea,” she breathes, eyes filled with unconcealed lust.

With that, she takes Harry’s hand and uses it to stand up from the desk, taking her top off and smashing her lips with his. The heat of the kiss feels glorious but before Harry can get lost into it, Tonks is turning around and grinding her arse against his groin, getting rid of her bra at the same time.

Harry groans and curses, fingers immediately unfastening his belt. He feels wild with want and grasps for self-control.

He presses Tonks’ front flush to the desk, one hand between her shoulder-blades and kicks her legs apart a bit roughly. His action is immediately rewarded by a delighted and breathy  _ “oh yes, fuck yes” _ from Tonks. 

She’s completely naked and offered onto the desk, her very fleshy round arse looks...  _ delicious  _ and waiting for him. Harry has to close his eyes again for a second, to try and keep control for what he’s about to do.

“Lube charm,” orders Tonks breathily.

She sounds high and Harry blinks before obeying. Feeling dizzy, he aims his wand at his shaft, coating it with lube before aligning with her rear entrance.

“Just… tell me if…”

“It’s fine, just…  _ slowly _ ,” she breathes, glancing back at him and Harry nods.

It’s the last completely conscious thing he manages to do before the end. 

He carefully places his hand on her hips, his fingers perfectly covering the faint foreign bruises already there, and presses against her entrance. 

A loud puff of air escapes Harry’s lungs when he breaches her, the heat and tightness of her making him moan uncontrollably loudly. He can’t look away from his cock, slowly getting engulfed, as he pushes gently, Tonks’ fingers gripping the side of the desk and breathing hard. 

She lets out a guttural moan when Harry presses even further and he grunts like an animal when he’s finally fully sheathed inside of her.

“Oh, merlin-fucking-pants,” he almost laughs, beside himself, “this is… fuck Tonks, you are so impossibly  _ tight _ !”

“Move, Harry,” she moans.

And so, he does, slowly, gripping her hips, and feeling his eyes roll back into his skull. 

He does his best to keep his rhythm slow, which is extremely difficult because honestly, the feeling of her makes him want to pound into her but he knows he  _ can’t _ .

Harry’s head is thrown back, a strand of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, as he undulates his hips back and forth, gently, so gently that he almost whines at the urgency he feels.

“Yeah?” asks Tonks, glancing at him over her shoulder with rosy cheeks and a smirk on her face, “like that Harry? Wanna fuck me harder?”

Harry can only moan and nod before he starts doing it anyway. It goes incredibly quickly after that, and honestly, Harry has no wish to hold back. All he can do is watch his cock as it disappears into Tonks’ gorgeous arse, again and again, like a hypnotizing show, sending shots of dopamine throughout his whole body.

He grunts wildly when he comes, eyes closed tightly, as Tonks’ arse clenches hard around him. He can feel her eyes on him, feasting on his pleasure, relishing in the strength of his exploding climax. 

He all but collapses on her back afterwards, completely out of breath and feeling dizzy. He slips out of her with a low hiss and gracelessly lies next to her on the desk, breathing hard.

“Fuck, the look on you face…” chuckles Tonks breathily, “am I right to assume you liked that very,  _ very  _ much?”

Harry nods and chuckles weakly, too out of breath and lightheaded to make any witty comeback.

“Are  _ you  _ alright?” he asks after a few short breaths.

“Completely fucked out. Thank you very much for  _ that _ ,” she grins wickedly and Harry snorts.

Another few minutes pass before they both manage to stand up and start to get dressed. Harry is fastening his buckle, watching Tonks struggle with one of her sleeves when he decides to ask the question that has been at the front of his mind all day, rendering him completely useless.

“Did you-  _ did  _ you morph your arse?  _ For me _ ?”

Tonks turns to look at him full in the face, a giant smirk on hers.

“I sure did,” she grins.

Harry can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. She’s really,  _ really  _ incredibly naughty. And he  _ loves  _ it. The next question slips past his lips before he can think about it.

“Tonks, how far does that metamorph thing go?” 

Tonks’ face lits up and she bites her lip in a delighted grin.

“Harry, I thought you’d  _ never  _ ask!” she says, “you’re too much of a gentleman! I remember most guys used to ask that question pretty early on, made perfect practice for my horn tongue hex actually,” she explains, chuckling.

Harry shrugs a bit sheepishly. He won’t lie and say he never wondered about it, because he has. But seeing as he’s sort of “extraordinary” to her right now, he’s not inclined to fix her assumptions.

“But. To answer your question…” she starts, looking like she’s enjoying herself quite a lot, “I can be whoever I want to be.”

With that, her face scrunches up and her features slowly change. Her skin is getting paler, her hair fading to an icy-blond, eyes a deep indigo, in a very,  _ very  _ accurate impersonation of Fleur Delacour.

Harry’s eyes go wide.

“Hello ‘Arry,” she smiles brightly and Harry has to admit she’s doing an excellent job of mimicking Fleur’s looks. But behind the almost flawless disguise, there’s still the wicked gleam in her eyes that is a hundred per cent  _ Tonks _ . 

She sends her beautiful hair flying behind her back and slowly walks towards him with a predatory gait.

“Oh gods, please don’t,” snorts Harry, amused but also oddly uncomfortable.

“Compromising thoughts about me ‘Arry?” asks Fleur-Tonks, one eyebrow raised provocatively and Harry can’t help but let out a weak guilty chuckle. 

“Mmmh, thought so,” smirks Fleur-Tonks knowingly, “innocent-looking, young Harry Potter is  _ naughty… _ ” she tssk, shaking her head slowly before scrunching her face and getting back to herself, a satisfied and slightly smug grin on her lips.

“No Fleur for  _ you,  _ sir,” she pouts, taking a step back. “Besides the whole point of having fun with morphing is to tweak little body parts to surprise, not impersonate existing people,” she explains more gently, winking at him as she puts her jumper on.

Harry can only grin and nod, agreeing with her view of things. He can’t say he didn’t enjoy what she did to her arse today (or what she allowed  _ him  _ to do to it), even if it’s already  _ very  _ alluring enough to him in its natural state.

“You won’t hear me complain about it,” he grins.

Tonks takes his hands and leans towards his lips, places a gentle kiss there, and Harry lets out a contented sigh. It’s one of those sweet post-sex moments he’s not feeling awkward about anymore but that they always keep brief.

He feels Tonks’ fingers close around one of his wrists and direct his hand lower.

“I can tweak all sorts of things….” she breathes, looking so wicked that Harry narrows his eyes suspiciously, wondering what she has in mind  _ now _ .

He gets his answer when his palm is being firmly pressed against a tight bulge between Tonks’ legs.

Eyes going comically wide, Harry chokes on his own tongue and quickly snatches his hand away.

“What’s the matter Harry?” smirks Tonks, “not into cocks?”

“You- you-” he stutters.

“And here I was, under the impression that you weren’t averse to a bit of arse play… No?” she asks, biting her lips hard, clearly suppressing laughter at his embarrassment.

Harry takes a deep breath and sends her a mock glare.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, a bit darkly.

“ _ Tremendously, _ ” grins Tonks and Harry shakes his head in half exasperation, half amusement.

“Gods, witch, you are truly, irremediably  _ depraved _ ,” he chuckles.

“Says the man who was pounding my  _ arse  _ not ten minutes ago,” winks Tonks and Harry can’t help but snort.

“Fair enough,” he grins sheepishly, eyeing her cautiously, glancing at her groin a bit worriedly and staying at a respectable distance from her.

Tonks snorts and rolls her eyes before closing the distance between them, “don’t worry, you poor soul, it was just for show, it’s gone now,” she teases, before kissing him lightly.

“I’d very much appreciate it if you could keep it that way,” chuckles Harry.

“You’re much less adventurous than I thought,” she teases in a sigh.

Harry cocks his head to the side, looking at her curiously.

“Have you ever? you know…” he grins, biting his lip, too curious not to ask.

Tonks doesn’t let anything show on her face but winks, “I never kiss and tell, mister Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tonks deserved a bit of fun before we get into a much more serious chapter next. I swear a serious conversation is going to happen next chapter (for those anxiously waiting for that!) and it shouldn't take too long to arrive ;)
> 
> Hope you liked it anyway!


	10. Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...

Harry is pacing Tonks’ office, biting his nails, nervously glancing at the door every ten seconds, his heart racing.

Why isn’t she back yet?

As soon as he hears Robards casually mention to Morrison that Tonks is currently not here because she’s having a magical examination, panic starts to fill him, and he can’t focus on anything anymore.

Monthly magical evaluations are part of the requirements for Aurors, it’s done by Ministry healers, every first Monday of each month. It’s usually a formality, a quick check-up to confirm that the Aurors are in perfect health and fit for work.

But Tonks has _already_ had her examination this month, Harry knows this because the timesheet of the latest examinations is still hung on the blackboard in the open space. Plus, it’s Friday.

So, why _a second_ magical examination?

Does this mean there is something wrong with her? Harry tries not to panic and jump to the worst kind of conclusions while he waits for Tonks in her office.

When she finally arrives, she startles slightly at Harry’s unexpected presence in her office but he doesn’t give her time to comment on it. 

“Is everything alright?” he asks immediately.

“Yes,” she answers slowly, eyes slightly narrowed, having evidently no clue why Harry is acting so agitated right now, “why?”

“Your magical examination... is something wrong?” he presses, not bothering to act embarrassed about the fact that he’s been tracking her movements.

“It’s just a formality, Harry” she answers simply but Harry could swear she’s averting her eyes, she immediately busies herself with some random parchments on her desk.

“Yes, but _two_ examinations in one month, Tonks?” Harry insists.

Tonks looks at him strangely, and Harry can’t take it anymore.

“Tonks, I’m kind of freaking out right now… please tell me it’s not… something _bad_ ,” he says, trying hard not to panic and, before he can stop himself, his eyes briefly flick to her belly.

He knows she’s on the potion _and_ the charm but he’s suddenly terrified something might have gone wrong.

Tonks does not miss his quick glance, her eyes narrow dangerously.

“What?” she hisses, “No! I _told_ you I’ve got this under control. Fucking hell, Harry! Is that the first thing to come up to your mind?” she says, and now she sounds really angry, “How a… a _baby_ ... would fuck up your life? _Not_ concern for my fucking _health_?” 

Harry swallows, realising he’s just been very tactless.

“No! But… you said it was just a formality so I gathered there’s nothing wrong with your health,” he tries to explain quickly, looking at her earnestly. “Fuck. Tonks, I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I’m an arse,” he finishes lamely, feeling shame rise within him.

Tonks is nodding, clearly agreeing with his last statement. Her eyes are still narrowed and Harry knows he just fucked up, big time. She’s pissed. And rightly so. 

He stays silent for another minute because he knows her well enough to figure she’s not above cursing his arse for being an insensitive prat. When she doesn’t look like she’s about to draw out her wand, Harry slowly moves towards her and reaches for her hands.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to _that_ conclusion, I just freaked out. I’m glad you’re okay, I really am, I _care_ about you, you know that,” he says, feeling a bit desperate and squeezing her hands.

Tonks doesn’t answer, but something passes in her eyes, like a veil being raised. She shakes her head slowly from side to side and whispers something Harry can’t quite catch.

Then, her eyes are piercing his.

“What is it to _you_ , this… _affair_ , anyway?” she whispers, catching Harry completely off guard.

He feels air leave his lungs and his grip on her hands relaxes slightly.

“I… I…” he stutters and Tonks breaks away from him.

“We’re insane. Insane for doing this, it doesn’t make any sense… Ginny and Remus deserve better than us.”

With that, she storms out of her own office and leaves Harry feeling completely helpless and shocked.

***

  
  


Harry is determined to talk to Tonks, find a satisfying answer to her question and make things right between them. He’s incredibly sorry that he hurt her somehow and still a bit shocked at her sudden explosion of anger and guilt. He’s shamefully aware that her question and outburst are not unreasonable at all, but they have made it so far without confronting that drawback, haven’t they?

 _Coward_.

Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t get much time to think, or do anything much about it until well past midnight the next day. Indeed, the timing is pretty awful. The circumstances of the weekend, Ron and Hermione’s wedding, compels Harry to push his thoughts about Tonks at the back of his mind for a little while.

The general excitement and buzz of activity of the Weasley crowd, so close to the event, is contagious and with a very happy Ginny and an overexcited James by his side, Harry has to compartmentalize and focus on his family and the joy surrounding the wedding. 

The sunny afternoon finds Harry walking down the aisle arm in arm with Ginny. She’s wearing a beautiful jade green silky dress and looks so stunning that for a moment, Harry is reminded of their own wedding and love flows through him, making his heart impossibly warm. Ginny’s smile is radiant and she winks at him as their arms entangle, whispering _“damn Harry, I can’t wait for the wedding night!”_ in his ear before taking her place near the altar. Harry can only chuckle and grin back at her, too joyful to let his guilt take over. 

He stands alongside Ron, both men wearing fancy, tailored dress robes, and watches as Hermione slowly walks down the aisle arm in arm with her proud father, the most radiant of smiles illuminating her face, and he momentarily forgets about anything except his utter joy for his two best friends.

Hermione is simply beautiful, in a plain white dress, her hair tied back with a few loose curls resting on her shoulders and Harry resists the urge to snigger at Ron’s look of utter wonder next to him, as if he’s been potioned with Amortentia and couldn’t be arsed if everyone saw it.

It’s really cute and touching, to be honest, and Harry feels his heart warm at the view and his overwhelming love for his two best friends.

“Is this really happening?” breathes Ron in wonder, next to him.

“Yes, mate. And look at that, she’s coming willingly,” teases Harry, patting Ron’s shoulder affectionately.

“Yeah, she must be bonkers…” chuckles Ron, weakly, never looking away from Hermione.

This wedding feels like a long time coming. Ron proposed over two years ago but the timing was never right until now because of Hermione’s job. Those two certainly enjoy a touch of longing in their relationship, after patiently pining for each other for so many years. 

For a fleeting moment Harry can see it all, the Yule Ball, the jealousy in sixth year, and the completely out of place and euphoric kiss right in the middle of the battle, and he feels overwhelmed by affection for them both.

He’s infinitely happy for them. They’ve been in love for longer than he can remember, no matter how stupid they first acted about it at school. And now, they are finally getting _married_. 

Harry has no doubts that kids will follow. Hermione was always adamant that she wanted to wait, get her career started before having a family. Everything is aligning now and the timing is perfect.

Reaching the front of the aisle, Hermione pulls away from her father with a gentle smile and, eyes gleaming with happiness, turns to Harry. 

“You’re beautiful, Hermione. I’m so happy for you guys. I love you,” he breathes, voice breaking with emotion as he embraces her into his arms.

Hermione kisses his cheek and beams at him before turning away, towards her husband to be.

***

The tasty buffet has been largely dented, and copious amounts of champagne have been drunk by the time Harry puts James to bed. His son falls asleep in his arms as he carries him inside the Burrow.

Ron’s room is used as a kids’ dormitory tonight and Harry startles a bit when he sees that Fleur is sitting in a corner, in an old rocking chair, breastfeeding little Dominique and softly humming a lullaby.

“Sorry,” he apologises.

Fleur smiles kindly and Harry makes his way towards Ron’s bed, tucking a sleeping James under the sheets and caressing a stray lock of black hair off his son’s forehead before he places a gentle kiss there.

“He’s grown so much,” says Fleur very softly, “hiz ‘air is the same mess as yours, ‘Arry,” she teases.

Harry snorts lightly and conjures a low bed rail in order to secure James in his uncle’s bed.

“Luckily for him, he mostly looks like his mother,” he grins, glancing at Fleur.

“I’m sure he’ll grow to look a lot like you, you’ll see,” she winks and it feels like a stone suddenly drops into Harry’s stomach. He doesn’t know why, nothing in Fleur’s words should make him feel suddenly terrified but they do. 

Glancing at his son again, he puts the covers more firmly around him, covering his little toes with it and realises how tall his son is already. The sinking feeling in his guts only gets stronger and Harry has to take a deep breath before joining the party again.

A gaggle of joyful and slightly tipsy Weasleys is dancing in a circle, Hermione in their centre, looking amused and delighted by this weird little initiation ceremony. She’s then being handed for a dance, from Weasley to Weasley, starting with Arthur and Harry can see all the fondness the man holds for his daughter-in-law in his warm smile. 

Alcohol is also flowing in Ginny’s veins as she comes to drag him back to the dancefloor, Harry’s hands are on her waist, keeping her steady. He’s feeling comfortable in her arms, despite everything going on in his mind but he’s still a bit distressed by his sudden panic, up in Ron’s room. 

“Remember _our_ wedding, Harry?” asks Ginny softly.

Harry forces his thoughts on his wife and smiles.

“I do,” he says, very softly, “It felt unreal, but then, there you were, more beautiful than ever…”

“Feels like it was only yesterday,” she sighs, pressing closer to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. And then you told me, “ _you were my strength back then, even when each step took me further away from you-_ ”

“- _You were my strength until the last second. Let me try to be yours now, and forever,_ ” Harry finishes for her, eyes suddenly stinging.

Ginny slowly leans towards him, her soft lips full of tenderness, and he lets out a shuddering breath, reaching for her, embracing her and basking in her love. 

“And then _I_ said,” she continues, suddenly grinning up at him, “ _Your eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, your hair is as dark as a blackboard. You_ are _mine, you’re really divine.”_

They both chuckle at that, like a pair of lunatics, and it feels perfect, this easy complicity with Ginny and Harry finds that he can breathe again.

“Wouldn’t want to waste that poem of yours,” he teases lightly.

“Right? Plus I needed to exorcise, it haunted me for years you know!” she giggles.

There is a long moment of silence as they sway slowly to the rhythm of the music until Ginny looks up at him, her eyes are blazing.

“You know you can talk to me, Harry,” she says, barely a whisper, “whatever you are going through, I’m here, right here. I’ve always been here.”

Harry can’t answer, his throat constricts, and he closes his eyes. 

Of course Ginny knows him too well not to notice something is wrong with him, she’s always been able to read him, understand him better than almost anyone, except perhaps Hermione. His heart goes cold at his own betrayal. Here she is, his amazing wife, offering to bear his troubles while he’s fucking another woman behind her back. There’s nothing he can tell her.

If she knew, she would be devastated.

Harry nods faintly and quickly burrows his face into her neck, holding her tighter, terrified of losing her and reflecting that, even years later, she’s still _his_ strength and, despite his own vows at their wedding, he is just her weakness.

***

Most of the oldest guests have left by the time Harry sits for the first time that night, leaving only the ones closest to the Weasleys to party. His feet are thrumming from dancing and he just aches for a minute to relax.

He watches as Bill and Charlie raise a squealing but laughing Hermione into their arms, singing her praises, and he chuckles when Ron draws out an invisible sword and comes to her aid.

Ginny is dancing wildly with George, jumping and laughing her heart out, while Percy makes his mother twirl next to them, the happiest smiles ever on both of their faces and Harry is overwhelmed by affection for them all, his family. 

The thought of hurting anyone of them is unbearable.

The bartender pours him a firewhiskey and Harry is devoutly thankful for the soothing warmth and numbing effect of the liquid pouring down his dry throat. 

He needs the liquid courage for what he’s about to do. 

It’s time to be honest with himself, truly honest, and put everything on the table. He has pushed back the inevitable for too long. 

Harry has many flaws, but being a coward was never one of them. He always acted mostly bravely, even when he was afraid, even when everything seemed lost. And yet it feels easier to jump in front of a wand, disregarding danger, than confronting his own issues.

But it’s time he faces them, he can no longer hover in limbo between these two parts of his life, hurting people in the process. 

Unfortunately, he has no idea how to even start untangling it all.

Sighing, Harry glances to the left of the dancefloor, his eyes finding the person he’s looking for almost at once. Tonks is dancing in a close embrace with Remus, her face buried in his neck.

She looks particularly pretty tonight, in a tight, black dress. Harry’s eyes automatically lower to the naked flesh of her thighs and follow their curve to the small of her back where Remus’ hand is resting. He tears his eyes away, feeling shame rise within him. 

Ron and Hermione’s wedding is sacred. It’s a place for family and love. Not sin and lust.

Besides, there is another reason Harry has avoided looking at Tonks all night. No doubt in honour of their guests, she has turned her hair Weasley-red tonight and the view is… disturbing.

They almost look like sisters tonight, Ginny and Tonks. 

Perhaps it’s ridiculous that Harry has never thought about it before, or maybe he tried so hard not to draw comparisons between the two women that he became blind to it, but Tonks and Ginny _have_ many similarities. 

And not just their hair colour like tonight.

They’re both very brave, independent, bold and fierce women. They are fantastic mothers with demanding careers. They are both very funny and cheeky, always up for a challenge and incapable of giving up. He trusts both of them entirely and he feels incredibly lucky to have them in his life. 

Is it odd that Harry’s _mistress_ has so much in common with his wife? As if Harry is chasing the same qualities in women, over and over.

Even his sudden _awareness_ of them is somehow similar, as if, one day he’d just suddenly _seen_ them in a different light, and immediately became insanely attracted to them. 

And that’s when it hits Harry, a sudden jolt of panic sends a rush of adrenaline through his body. 

Could he be _in love_ with Tonks? 

The thought immediately makes him dizzy and lightheaded. The outcome of such feelings is terrifying, his legs feel cotton-like and Harry has to grip the side of the bar to find balance.

But an immediate, clear answer--one based on gut feelings rather than reflection--bubbles its way up to his brain. One he knows in his heart is true and perfectly undeniable even if he can’t explain it: _He loves Ginny_.

This certainty alone helps Harry breathe a bit easier, slacken his grip on the bar, and steady his heartbeat.

But it brings another question almost at once. How _does_ he feel about Tonks? _What is this..._ affair _to you, anyway?_

Her question echoes in his ears and Harry wants to understand what makes her so attractive to him. Maybe that’s a sensible place to start finding answers. 

If Harry is being honest with himself, and shame fills him for admitting it, he knows part of it is due to the fact that Tonks is _sexy_ . Extremely sexy in fact. Their physical alchemy is pretty phenomenal and the sex _is_ incredible. Which is an extremely shit reason for cheating, but then, are there any _good_ reasons to do such a thing?

But there is more. Narrowing his attraction to Tonks to physicality would be minimizing their relationship. They have been close for a long time, he trusts her with his life and cares for her a lot. She’s fantastic and funny and he loves being with her, for work, friendship or sex, she’s an amazing woman and he’s got tons of respect and affection for her. 

But attraction, trust and affection are not the same things as love. 

They _are_ the basis for romantic love, yes. But something is different, something obvious but completely unidentifiable at the same time. What mysterious ingredient could be missing to create profound, romantic love, the kind Harry feels for Ginny? 

_I am not in love with Tonks._

His lack of jealousy alone is telling of that difference. Hearing Ginny’s supporter talk about her is enough to make Harry boil, even if he learned to hide it. The idea that someone else might hold his wife, share intimacy with her, is unbearable. But watching Remus kiss Tonks on the dancefloor, or seeing the imprint of his fingertips on her skin, doesn’t raise jealousy in Harry… only guilt and maybe a tad bit of male competitiveness.

Is _possessiveness_ the missing factor? Most likely it’s just the expression of the different kinds of love Harry feels for Ginny and Tonks. 

Whatever the missing factor is, the conclusion is unequivocal. Harry is not in love with Tonks. And frankly, it is a relief. Things are already complicated enough as they are. 

Breathing deeply, Harry lets that certainty sink in.

In another life maybe... he could have fallen in love with her, he really could have. 

But his heart is unavailable.

So, why does he feel like a drug addict when it comes to Tonks? Why can’t he keep his hands off her even when it means jeopardizing everything he holds dear in his life?

There is something lingering at the back of Harry’s mind, something that has nothing to do with Tonks but everything to do with himself and yet feels intricately connected to his current relationship with her. 

Harry learned to fight it back anytime it tries to surface, because it brings panic attacks along with it, rendering him completely useless.

But he knows he can’t carry that forever, it’s becoming impossible to ignore and at some point he’ll have to deal with it. Even letting that thought enter his mind makes his breaths shorter.

Harry closes his eyes, braces himself, taking slow deep breaths and gradually, carefully lets his mind wander to the place he’s been fiercely avoiding entering so far.

It feels as if that part of his brain had been waiting for that moment, willing to be unveiled. Complex layers are rapidly being peeled to reveal something old and deeply buried, born when Harry was still devoid of words, maybe even devoid of conscious thought. And maybe that is why it’s so difficult to receive these thoughts, these feelings, analyze and sort them with a grownup mind. 

They are stemming from a deeply buried trauma and the only feelings Harry manages to identify amidst the blur of his growing panic is a sudden, irrational and uncontrollable fear of loss.

Harry breaks the connection, closes the door before being overtaken by panic. He takes a few deep breaths and another large gulp of firewhiskey. The burning liquid helps clear his head and his heartbeat steadies. 

It doesn’t take a mind healer to understand where these feelings come from. The loss of his parents could never stop hurting, even now that he has his own family.

Harry wonders _why_ these feelings are suddenly trying to surface more and more often, to the point of causing panic attacks. He’s been happy for years, able to live with this particular pain. Why is it suddenly becoming overwhelming?

What Harry _does_ know though, is that he’s been the shadow of himself for some time now, constantly fighting it back. And he’s also convinced it is part of the reason that led him to act out and adopt a risky behaviour. 

As far as Harry can remember, he’s always been a bit reckless, putting himself at risk and seeking for the thrill of danger whenever his head was too full. 

Of course, he knows he shouldn’t try to make excuses for what he’s doing, because it _is_ wrong. But being with Tonks allows him to forget who he is, forget where he comes from and empty his mind. For a moment he just feels _free_ and _alive_. 

It feels like finally putting some pieces of the puzzle together and Harry realises that there is a very high probability that his affair with Tonks is a direct consequence of his current suffering.

It’s an efficient but ill-advised and wrongful way of coping with his deepest trauma by not facing it. But fear only creates fear, and through his affair, he’s created a new and very real, tangible one; the fear of losing his wife, his family.

But the idea that things might be over with Tonks _also_ terrifies Harry. He doesn’t think he’s ready to give up on his source of comfort, on his source of freedom yet, however selfish and wrong it is. He feels trapped in a vicious cycle, addicted to the way she makes him feel.

Glancing back at Tonks, Harry feels cold and shameful. He _hates_ that he might have hurt her feelings somehow for selfish reasons she’s not even privy to. He realises that, far from bringing them closer, sex might have pushed them apart. He has no idea how she feels, but the hurt in her eyes when she stormed out of her own office the previous day still haunts him. 

How does _she_ feel? What is this affair to _her_? Somehow, Harry realises he should have asked himself and her those questions sooner. He’d been blinded by lust, by his need to escape reality, rendering himself completely oblivious to Tonks’ feelings and the wreck he might be causing in her life, in his godchild's life. 

They need to talk, badly.

Desperate to distract himself from his distressing thoughts until he can actually _do_ something to address them, Harry glances at the newlyweds on the dancefloor. Hermione is sporting the most radiant smile, swimming in happiness. Ron has a goofy grin on his face, as if he can’t believe this is happening at all.

He watches them dance for a while, almost mesmerized by the gentleness with which Ron cups Hermione’s chin as he kisses her gently. They’re perfect for each other, in their own special way.

Harry only hopes they’ll be better at marriage than he is.

***

Ron and Hermione come to drag him back to the dancefloor not long after, looking happy and slightly drunk and Harry is glad for the distraction. He empties his glass of firewhiskey before following them to the dancefloor.

He’s dancing with Hermione for the third time that night when she lightly taps his shoulder and beams at someone behind him.

“Let’s swap, Harry,” she says gently, dislodging herself and turning around to face Remus and Tonks instead.

“Do you mind?” she asks Tonks, with a smile.

Tonks smiles and shakes her head. Remus takes one of Hermione’s hands, smiling fondly and says something that instantly makes her beam. He then gently places Tonks’ hand in Harry’s, leaving them no choice but to start dancing together.

The music is slow, and for a long moment, they just sway on the spot, eyes boring into each other. Tonks’ body is pressed against his, not indecently but close enough for Harry to feel the enticing warmth of her curves. Her eyes are stormy grey, red hair let loose over her shoulders. She’s beautiful. But there is some new quality in her eyes, it’s hard to describe, it seems to hover between defiance, sadness and longing.

He closes his eyes briefly and focuses on the muffliato, immediately hearing the faint buzz around them indicating that no one can overhear them from now on.

“I’m sorry for being an arse,” he starts softly, looking down at her, “I never wanted to hurt you or make you think that I don’t care about you, I need you to trust me on that because I trust you completely.”

Tonks doesn’t answer, she’s observing him quietly, hands delicately resting on his shoulders.

“It’s not just that I’m just insanely attracted to you, well, I _am_ but... I don’t want you to think I only care about _sex_ or something rotten like that… you mean freaking much to me.” he breathes fiercely, fingers squeezing her waist.

“There are tons of reasons why I’m attracted to you. But none of them are excusable as a married man. None of them are good enough reasons. I’m a fucking mess and I don’t deserve Ginny. You _are_ right. We are insane and this is _wrong_. But…”

There are so many things Harry wishes he could tell her, explain to her, but he feels incapable of translating his deep fears, his feeling of unworthiness into words. All he knows is that when he’s with her, he feels free of them.

“I’m only just starting to understand why _this_ happened in the first place,” he says softly, fingers squeezing Tonk’s waist, holding on to her, “but... Tonks, you’ve been like my _oxygen_ these past few weeks and I’m sorry I unintentionally _used_ you to cope with my own shit… it’s not fair to you or to Ginny and I’m just a selfish prick that-” 

“Stop,” she interrupts softly, stormy grey eyes looking up at him with gentle determination, “Breathe, Harry. It’s okay. I trust you,” she says gently, “it wasn’t entirely fair of me to snap at you like that yesterday, it isn’t your fault I’ve been lying to myself... I’m as much to blame than you in this,” she says, her voice soft, her eyes gleaming under the technicolour lights. 

“But clearly you realise we made the worst possible choice, whatever our reasons?” she continues, sadness and guilt in her eyes, “and it’s not right, it’s not right at all.” 

“I know,” breathes Harry, “I know.”

There is a long silence. Harry feels shame grow in his guts, it shouldn’t be possible to feel as conflicted as he feels right now. Tonks is watching him carefully, and Harry feels like she has the ability to read him perfectly. 

“And yet you’re not sure you want to stop,” she finally says in a strangled whisper.

It’s not a question, it’s a statement and Harry knows he can’t honestly deny it. He shuts his eyes, feeling like the biggest scumbag ever walking the planet and lets out a frustrated sound before looking at Tonks. She’s not being fair, asking all the questions and carefully avoiding talking about _her_ side of things. 

“What do _you_ want, Tonks?” he asks, a bit more offensive than he intended. 

Tonks’ shoulders sag and she shakes her head slowly, looking down. 

“You want to know why I was called for another magical examination?” she finally asks, completely throwing Harry off guards. He nods.

“I’ve had minor issues with my metamorph lately. I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all but Patil’s new health questionnaire is bloody thorough,” she says in a low voice, and Harry just looks at her with a frown on his face, “the pink,” she explains, “it doesn’t work anymore.” 

Harry blinks, not understanding. He’s seen Tonks wearing pink hair several times recently. Admittedly she’s been wearing a larger variety of colours lately but he just assumed she was trying on new styles. 

“What are you talking about?” he says, confused, “I’ve seen you in pink many times these past few weeks.” 

Tonks sends him a long, hard look, both of her eyebrows raised. It doesn’t make any sense to Harry who looks at her completely dumbfounded. He’s pretty sure he’s missing some major point there.

“Harry…” she finally says, “use your brains for Merlin’s sake. When did you last see me with the pink?”

Harry racks his brains until he remembers for sure.

“The day before yesterday!” he says, “right when we were-”

Harry stops mid-sentence as the memory fills him. They’d been shagging in his new office, Tonks sprawled on his desk while he pistoned into her. Harry is sure she was pink then because he spent ten minutes picking up stray pink hair off his files after she left. 

Tonks is looking at him as if he’s dim but patiently asks: “alright, what about the time before that?”

Heat spreads through him at the memory. The time before was five days ago, his tongue down in her _lower_ pink hair right after she’d suck him off... He’s suppressing misplaced vivid memories about _that_ when he finally catches on what is truly happening. He pales, eyes widening.

“They’re pink only when we shag…” he breathes.

Tonks nods, and then there is a very long silence as Harry tries to process the information.

“So, to answer your question,” says Tonks very softly, not averting her eyes, “I’m… _trying_ not to want you so much because it’s… _dangerous_ and makes everything a thousand times worse...” she breathes, voice cracking, “But it also feels… _so_ good when we are together, to feel trusted, to feel _wanted_ like that and I’m weak enough to seek that feeling over and over again,” she says, the intensity of her gaze making Harry feel warm. 

She breaks eye contact then, gently resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m failing miserably at not wanting you, Harry Potter” she finishes breathily in his neck and Harry’s heart skips a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you are. Some will hate it, others might like it. Harry and Tonks have many more things to talk about and settle and it won't be easy, not easy at all...
> 
> Thank you meditationsinemergencies for being such a supportive beta!


	11. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, this is a BIG one O-O

The Auror Department is buzzing with activity on the Monday following Ron and Hermione’s wedding. Harry has just stepped foot in the office when he’s informed that several convicted snatchers, including Scabior, are asking for reduced sentences in exchange for information about an illegal potion trade in the north of the country that Harry has previously investigated.

It’s not much to go with, and probably won’t lead anywhere but it’s causing Harry’s stress levels to rise slightly as he remembers only too well the night he met Scabior, so many years ago and that ended in Hermione being tortured and Dobby dying.

Harry tries to distance himself from the memories, they don’t help when he’s already feeling quite worried and tense after his conversation with Tonks.

On the one side, he’s finally confronted his own feelings, and Tonks is aware of them, which is sort of relieving. Honesty seems to be their new operating mode and that’s for the best.

But on the other side, he’s painfully aware that he’s causing chaos in Tonks’ life, to the point of altering her morphing, which can only mean one thing: her feelings are a mess and he’s the one responsible for that. 

They eat lunch quietly that day, exchanging subtle glances and Harry wishes he could make sure she’s alright. Despite their conversation, he’s not sure where they stand anymore, as if honesty somehow made everything even more complex.

“Stop looking at me like that, Harry. I’m not going to break,” says Tonks eventually, glancing at him. Her tone is steady and when she grins at him, Harry feels relief slowly wash through him.

He stares at her for a moment, taking in the forest green colour of her long hair, the soft amber shade of her eyes.

“I know that. You’re way stronger than pretty much anyone I know,” he says truthfully, gently combing one lock of green hair behind her ear.

“You bet I am,” nods Tonks, stuffing her mouth with a huge bite of her sandwich, “and you better get ready to have your arse kicked at training this afternoon,” she adds, her grin so predatory that Harry can’t help but let out a chuckle.

He’s infinitely relieved that their friendship has survived whatever is happening between them and for now, it’s all that matters. 

***

Training that afternoon _does_ make things much clearer for Harry, in a way.

Tonks is duelling Laura Madley, one of the youngest Aurors at the academy. Harry watches as Tonks easily dodges stunners, and deflects a disarming charm with her protective shield. The duel is not balanced, of course, Tonks is by far the most accomplished Auror in the department after all, but she’s also kind and always makes sure to teach juniors whenever they duel her.

“You’re fast Laura, and really _sneaky_ , I like it!” grins Tonks, as she dodges a hex that looks suspiciously like a bat bogey to Harry. “Don’t forget your shield!” she warns, giving Laura another second before sending a silent Expeliarmus at her.

The wand rises in this air and soars towards Tonks’ hands, her fingers closing around it. Laura groans and only hesitates for a second before charging at Tonks.

The struggle continues on the floor, a wild mess of green and blond hair, of heavy breathing and soft sounds that make Harry suddenly aware he’s enjoying the show a bit more than what is strictly appropriate.

When Tonks rises, a few minutes later, sweaty but victorious, she catches Harry’s eyes for a second and a small smirk spreads on her face before she looks away and rearranges her features, patting Laura’s back and challenging the next pair of duellers.

Harry easily wins both his duels that day and is waiting on the bench for the last round to end when Tonks sits next to him, a few minutes after winning her second duel. She’s still panting, her chest heaving under her tight shirt, a bead of sweat is running down the side of her neck and the sweet scent of her, bubblegum and sweat invades Harry’s nostrils. 

The effect on his body is immediate, slow warmth spreads through his loins, blood flowing down. He glances sideways at her, aware she can probably feel the heat of his gaze on her.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that,” she breathes, her eyes never straying from the pair duelling at the centre of the ring, “we’re going to have to go somewhere private.”

Her whispered words are barely audible over the cacophony of spells and loud voices but they penetrate Harry’s mind instantly and his heart starts beating faster.

She’s just made it quite plain that she still wants him, no matter how conflicted she may feel about it but she did in a way so Harry could conveniently ignore her invitation if he wanted to--and he probably should, for both their sakes. He _could_ pretend he didn’t hear her if he wanted to, and Harry has no doubt it is the reason why Tonks spoke so low in the first place.

She’s letting _him_ be the one in charge of the decision and somewhere at the back of his mind, he knows he has a choice to make.

But fuck it all, Harry doesn’t think refusing her offer is even an option right now. Not when what she’s offering is her amazing body, blissful oblivion and heaps of pleasure. He can’t help but crave the feelings of freedom and euphoria Tonks brings into him and that he feels so addicted to, especially when he feels burdened and tense like today.

He knows in his heart that this is very wrong and that he has to _stop_ needing her like that, sorting his feelings should mean he should be above his lusty needs for her. But the adrenaline already running through his body at the mere idea of shagging her is making it quite obvious that he has no real will to resist the temptation.

He’s a fucking sex-craved junkie for Tonks and it’s too soon for a clean cut.

Harry takes a long time to pack his training gear, voluntarily staying behind longer than strictly necessary, heart hammering in his chest, until Tonks is the only person left in the training centre.

She looks at him then, stormy grey eyes fierce, and it’s all it takes for Harry to quickly stride towards her, cup her cheeks and start kissing her as if his life depended on it.

“We are so fucking weak,” whispers Tonks against his lips, as she kisses him back with fervour, and Harry feels a tear roll between their cheeks and glide against his palm.

***

“Oh-my-god-Harry!” gasps Tonks, as his teeth close around her nipple while his fingers are working urgently between her legs.

It’s the last time they are working together in Boston before Harry gets assigned a Junior to train. After that, they won’t be partners as often as they used to be, and maybe that is part of the reason why this night overseas carries a particular urgency. 

There is also the strange growing feeling that, ever since their talk at the wedding a few days ago, every time they have sex might be the last. And even if Harry agrees it’s inevitable, he also feels the pressing need to make the most of every last opportunity. 

“Come on, Tonks, come for me!” he breathes against her breast, thumb circling her clit madly.

It’s barely five in the afternoon, the sun is still bright behind the curtains but Harry and Tonks didn’t waste any second after coming back from the Boston offices to tear at each other’s clothes as if they could feel their time together was running short.

Tonks moans one last time, and then her back arches from the bed and she becomes silent, suspended in her ecstasy, and Harry watches raptly as her pleasure overtakes her until she convulses around his fingers, gasping for air.

Her cheeks are as pink as her hair and Harry kisses her hard. He doesn’t even let her a minute to come down from her orgasm before he’s rolling her on top of him and entering her with a sharp thrust up that makes her eyes roll back into her skull. 

Harry can still feel her walls fluttering around his cock and he immediately rocks into her, hard enough to make her breasts bounce in a very indecent and hypnotizing way, holding her hips tightly and pushing them down on him hard with each of his thrusts up. 

Tonks is completely pliant in his arms, letting him use her however he wishes, eyes closed and lips parted.

“Merlin witch -Ha!” gasps Harry, increasing his speed, “you like being the perfect little sex doll, don’t you?” he grits between his teeth.

Mere weeks ago, Harry had never thought he’d either experience or enjoy such levels of dirty talk and roughness. 

Tonks proved him wrong on both accounts. 

She owns her desires and her pleasure and isn’t shy about it one bit, encouraging Harry to do the same. She loves being in control and torture Harry as much as she enjoys being dominated and fucked hard. Harry became an eager student, more than willing to explore whatever filthy idea might come up into either of their minds. 

Tonks bites her lip, suppressing a grin at his words, her eyes are closed in bliss and Harry can’t help but want more. He rolls her off him, placing her body exactly the way he wants it right now; face down, her front flush with the mattress, her arse slightly raised.

She moans and immediately pushes her arse back, asking for more.

“What do you want me to do to you?” asks Harry as he kneels behind her, holding his shaft and moving it tantalizingly against her cleft.

He presses against her rear entrance just enough to make her gasp before immediately starting teasing her slit again, sliding his tip slowly, from her arse to her clit and back again.

“Merlin fuck Harry-gods-just fuck me already!” she demands.

“Beg for it,” he articulates very clearly, “tell me exactly what you want.” 

“Oh fucking hell…” she whines, “Fuck me, punish me, please Harry, fuck me and spank me, _please_!”

Harry grins deviously and immediately presses into her cunt, a low groan escaping his throat. She’s incredibly warm around him, walls squeezing his cock deliciously and he knows he could explode easily. 

But Harry wants to take his time. If Tonks wants to be punished, he’s going to do it on his terms. 

He slowly rocks into her, squeezing his base to keep control of his pleasure and Tonks groans in frustration.

“Harr- Ah!”

A loud gasp escapes her throat as Harry’s palm lands on her arse, making her skin immediately redden. Her body reacts automatically and her muscles squeeze tightly around his cock.

“Oh fuck _yes_ … Let’s do that again,” groans Harry, moving his hips with torturous slowness.

Tonks lowers herself to her elbows, bracing herself for impact. Harry knows she loves it, and to his utter delight and surprise, he discovered how much he enjoyed spanking her weeks ago.

He starts pumping a bit faster into her, breathing loudly, willing himself to last long enough to make her come again. His palm lands sharply on her skin with a loud slap and she mewls, arching her back. Harry seizes a handful of pink hair and pulls. Tonks gasps but before any sound is even out of her mouth, all air leaves her lungs as another resounding slap lands on her arse cheek.

Her pretty flesh is red now, and Harry grabs her hips and starts pounding into her, sweaty and grunting profusely. Tonks’ face is buried in the pillow and Harry tugs on her hair again.

“I want you to look at me when you come,” he groans, jaw clenched, pounding into her, “you better come for me again!” he hisses, pulling her hair hard until her dark stormy grey eyes are on him.

Her face is as flushed as her arse but her lips are quirked at the corner and Harry knows she’s enjoying herself immensely. She’s still in control, and he wants to help her lose it.

He lets go of her hair, pressing his palm between her shoulders, pushing until she’s completely flush with the mattress, her elbows under her chest. Harry takes a second to admire his handiwork on her arse before opening her legs and positioning himself on top of her.

Her skin is slick with sweat and Harry burrows his face in her damp bubblegum-scented neck as he sinks his cock into her heat once more, immediately starting to fuck her hard and fast into the unrelenting surface of the mattress.

Tonks lets out a guttural moan, her head is turned to the side, and Harry is immensely satisfied to see that she’s not looking smug anymore but completely high. 

She comes less than a minute later, pulsing around his cock and whining. Harry groans, sinking his teeth into her shoulder gently and miraculously holding back from his own orgasm.

As soon as Tonks is done pulsing, Harry pulls away from her and rolls her to her back. He straddles her and her eyes immediately land on his cock. It only takes a couple of hard strokes before Harry bursts all over her breasts with a low, shuddering moan, his come painting her skin.

He collapses next to her, breathing heavily and when they look at each other, red in the face, completely out of breath they are both wearing satisfied and slightly wicked grins.

“Merlin, Harry, you’ve become pretty good at that,” breathes Tonks, and Harry chuckles.

“I had a good teacher,” he winks.

***

They don’t sleep much that night.

Neither do they separate to their respective rooms.

No time together can be wasted and Harry feels it in every feverish kiss, every burning touch, every breathy moan or explosive climax they share. 

They are lying together in bed in a lazy embrace, hours later, in the darkness preceding dawn, still naked and sharing slow and languid kisses. The urgency has faded now, due to satiated bodies and physical exhaustion. 

Sharing this kind of intimacy with Tonks feels fragile and very ephemeral. There is a sort of strange nostalgia hovering in the room as if they’ve reached new levels of understanding during the night.

Harry is lazily kissing his way between Tonks’ breasts when he notices something, out of the corner of his eyes: a small, magical tattoo, on her left side, just beside her breast, one that was never there before. 

It’s a beautiful spire of brightly coloured flowers and he watches, hypnotized, as the flower grows blue, turns dark purple before fading to powder pink.

“That’s new,” he observes in a soft voice.

Harry hears a sharp intake of breath as Tonks shifts under him.

“Fuck. I forgot to morph it away,” she says, voice surprisingly hollow.

“Don’t,” he says softly, “it’s beautiful.” 

His cheek is pillowed on her breasts as he observes the small burgeons flutter as if there were wind. He’s about to lean forward to place a gentle kiss on the tattoo when Tonks suddenly shoves his head off her and sits up, tucking her legs against her chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately sitting up and looking at her worriedly.

He has no idea why the mood suddenly switched from gentle and sweet to sad and remorseful.

“It’s a Lupin flower,” she breathes simply after a short silence, and Harry can see something change in her eyes. 

_Oh._

There is a long silence as Harry tries to think of something to say. But as hard as he tries, nothing comes to him. 

This little mark on Tonks’ body, so beautiful and innocent-looking, is another reminder of what they are doing and the people they are betraying. They’ve managed to keep their presence at bay all night, absorbed in their lust for each other, but Harry can feel the spell break, they won’t be able to pretend anymore tonight.

“ _Harry_.” 

It’s barely a whisper but his name on Tonks’ lips is loaded with unsaid things that Harry can’t ignore. He sighs and rubs his fingers over his eyes.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” she says, in a voice so low that Harry has to look at her lips to understand her.

“I know… I know,” he sighs, before taking a deep breath, “I have no idea _how_ to stop needing you so bad though,” he confesses truthfully, feeling shame colour his cheeks.

Tonks breaks eye contact and exhales loudly, throwing her head back, looking at the ceiling, her fingers gripping her knees.

“It’s not just about the sex, is it?” she asks softly.

“No,” breathes Harry, without hesitation, “sex with you is… _addicting_ ,” he confesses, glancing at her, “but I… I think I need you because there is something wrong with me--well, several things, probably,” he whispers.

Tonks looks at him with gentle eyes and Harry sighs, finally opening the gates.

“I haven’t been… _well_ . Not, ever really. But since the end of the war, I was _happy_ . But then recently it all went to shit… and I want to be happy again, _so_ bad… I just… don’t know... _how_.”

Harry can feel tears building in his eyes, and he quickly rubs them away.

“Does being with me make you happy?” asks Tonks slowly.

“Yes. But… not… it doesn’t erase how I truly feel, not for long, not… I feel amazing most of the time when we are together, I feel _free_ and I trust you completely. But afterwards…”

“You’re feeling guilty and really not happier at all,” she finishes for him. 

Harry can’t look away from her, and at this moment he knows they both feel exactly the same way.

“I thought I was falling in love with you, you know,” confesses Tonks, slowly, her voice clear and incredibly honest, “ever since that second time in Boston…” she explains, “and I _do_ love you, Harry, more than you can imagine, but…”

Tonks takes a deep breath.

“I realised that what I was _really_ looking for is a connection with someone who truly trusts me, someone that won’t be on his guards constantly, someone that would be open-hearted and I knew would never... _abandon_ me,” she says, her eyes fierce.

“It would be _so_ easy to fall in love with you, Harry, you have no idea...” she finishes, her tone very soft.

Harry feels overwhelmed by her words, by the genuine honesty Tonks is showing. His heart is beating strongly and steadily in his chest as he watches her intently. 

“I was _so_ stupid. I didn’t want to _think_ , I just wanted to free-fall into it, with you,” she continues, a sad smile on her face, “you’re young and fit, and so bloody loveable… I was stupid enough to try and forget that you are in love with Ginny, that you are not _mine_ . And when I stopped pretending… it _hurt_.”

Tonks takes a deep breath then and bites her lip before going on.

“I’m _not_ happy,” she confesses, slowly but steadily, “it took being with you and my morphing fucking up to admit it to myself. With you, I got a glimpse of what could be, of what Remus and I are missing, because however hard it might be sometimes, I _still_ love him. But we are _not_ happy. _I_ ’m not happy,” she breathes sadly.

She takes a long breath then, eyes glistening with tears.

“I’m not sure love is enough to save my marriage anymore. And Merlin, _that_ hurts even more.”

Tonks wipes a few tears from her cheeks and pushes a lock of pink hair behind her ear. Harry can feel her sorrow, how heavy on her heart this all is and he can almost feel her pain radiate through her, he had no idea, or perhaps he just didn’t want to see.

“Remus has always been… emotionally introverted,” she explains softly, “at first, I thought it was cute and bewitching and everything was fine while it was only innocent flirting between us. But then, I got confused. I could tell he liked me very much and yet he ignored my clear signals that I wanted more. But then I understood. He wasn’t… available,” she explains, before hesitating, “It’s not my place to tell you about this, so I won’t, but Remus went through a _lot_ around Voldemort’s return…” 

“He was determined to keep me away, determined to avoid being with me and take the risk of betraying his feelings and… hurt anyone in doing so. But even once he was... _free_ , he was willing to risk his life rather than face how he truly felt.” 

Tonks shakes her head and stares into Harry’s eyes.

“Remus suffers and has always suffered from a feeling of unworthiness so strong that he thinks himself unlovable, at least romantically. It was too much for him to handle when he fell in love with me, a young, successful Auror… You know the rest of the story, hell you’re _part_ of it! You were looking out for your Godson even before he was born. I could never thank you enough for sending Remus back to me Harry, for _shaming_ him into facing his responsibilities because Teddy needs a father and Remus is a wonderful one.”

She takes a deep breath then, eyes fierce.

“But even if I know he loves me, he never truly accepted that _I_ love him back. He came back out of _responsibility_ , out of what he thinks is his own weakness, _not_ because it felt right in his heart. He’s _still_ convinced I deserve better than him, still convinced that he’s unworthy of love,” she hisses desperately.

“And he’s fucking _right_ I deserve better than _that_!” she bursts out angrily. 

“But in spite of all that I _still_ love him so fucking much it hurts! And all the while, _he_ ’s always ready to take a step back, always on the lookout for the day I’d find someone else, someone younger, someone not a werewolf, someone _better_.”

Tears are falling thick on Tonks’ cheeks now and the anger in her eyes is replaced by hollow sadness.

“I guess I finally proved him right,” she breathes finally, and Harry reflects it’s the saddest thing he’s ever heard her say.

“I won’t say he _pushed_ me towards having an affair because that would be very unfair,” she finishes after a short silence, “but I know I found in you what he never gave me. Pure unadulterated _trust_.”

Harry looks away, wiping a tear from his cheek. There is a long silence before Tonks lets out a long shuddering breath.

“The irony is that you actually often make me think of him,” she says very softly, “you were both marked by darkness very early in life and will always suffer for it. You are incredibly kind, loyal and brave men, and yet you both feel unworthy of love. You are more than willing to sacrifice for others, without any second thought. True Gryffindors, the both of you… I guess I have a type,” she finishes, smiling sadly. 

Harry is speechless, yet what Tonks is saying makes sense and his eyes are lost into space as he ponders what to make of it all.

“Have you told Remus how you feel?” he finally asks.

A sad smile appears on Tonks’ face as she slowly shakes her head. “I can’t, I’m too afraid he’ll leave me again if he knows I’m unhappy,” she confesses, voice shaking with emotion, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable, “and... It’s too hard to give up on him, I’m not ready yet,” she finishes faintly. 

There is a very long silence, punctuated only by Tonks slow, deep breathing.

“So, Harry, what do _you_ find in me that you need so bad?” she finally asks with a sad smile.

There’s an easy answer to that question and Harry gives it to her.

“ _Freedom_. You make me feel like I’m lighter. With you, I forget who I am, where I come from. I’m free of my past for a moment… I forget all my fears…”

“What is it you fear?”

“Losing the people I love.”

Tonks doesn’t answer for a long moment before letting out a breathy laugh.

“In other words, with me, you feel free because you have nothing to lose.”

“No, I-”

“It’s fine, Harry. I understand,” she says patiently, squeezing his hand, “I’m not your parents, I’m not Sirius… you’ve lost so much before you were even able to properly aim a stunning spell… And now that you have a beautiful son and an amazing wife, _a family_ to lose again, you are terrified history will repeat itself.”

Harry nods and closes his eyes in pain. Everything is starting to make sense now, as if the light is suddenly fading in, and he wonders why he waited so long to talk about it with Tonks.

“I think it started about three months ago, right after James’ birthday…” he says slowly, needing to immediately translate this feeling into words. He’s not sure where the words come from but as soon as he says them, he knows they are true.

“I was happy, I thought all of this was behind me but then… James turned one and I showed him the photo album, the only one I’ve got from my parents. There is a picture of my father holding my mother in his arms, baby-me standing between their legs. It was right at the end… We were all smiling and… It _broke_ me,” he chokes out, “I could see it _so_ clearly. Me as my father, Ginny as my mother, James as baby-me… And I know it’s stupid, I know the real threat is gone but I couldn’t _breathe…_ I couldn’t... “

Harry’s voice dies out as he tries to breathe, not to get overwhelmed by his emotions again.

“Have you told Ginny any of this?” asks Tonks gently, squeezing his hand.

“I’m only just starting to understand it myself,” admits Harry, shaking his head slowly, not bothering to wipe his tears this time.

“In short, we both made the worst possible choices to make our worst fears happen--with a plot twist,” sighs Tonks very sadly.

The first lights of the sun are starting to show timidly, in waves of yellow and pink in the night sky and Harry holds Tonks’ eyes, and at this moment he realises they understand each other perfectly, and both know _this_ has to stop, because far from solving their issues, their relationship is creating new, very tangible ones.

A ray of faint light hits Tonks’ cheek and Harry just looks at the faint orange color it gives to her skin, silent and lost in a strange, almost peaceful, mixture of feelings.

“You know _this fear_ is not simply going to go away, don’t you?” says Tonks after a very long time, her voice steadier but gentle.

“I’m afraid not,” sighs Harry.

“And now you have a fucked up _mistress_ hanging on to her own wreck of a marriage, and a whole affair to handle to boot,” she adds, not without irony.

Harry looks into her stormy grey eyes and places a gentle kiss on her lips. 

“You mean so much more than that to me, I want you to be _happy_ , Tonks,” he whispers, “don’t think for a second that you aren’t part of the people I love, I’d die for you,” he says, voice shaking with emotion.

Tonks kisses his forehead gently, lips pressing lightly against his scar.

“I know, Harry, I know. And strictly speaking, you already have once. Which makes it bloody impossible not to love you,” she teases, a bit sadly.

Harry kisses her, putting all his emotions in the gentleness of his lips. He feels braver thanks to her, almost drunk, the heavyweight on his chest has lifted slightly. He’s devoutly thankful to her for making him voice out his deep issues, no matter the consequences, and he tries to express all of it in his kiss and tries to inject some of his newfound bravery into her. 

He’s incredibly worried about her too, because Tonks deserves to be _happy_ , and no matter how wrong this affair is, Remus has not been up to the task and now things seem almost hopeless.

They embrace for a very long time, exchanging slow, gentle kisses and Harry feels lightheaded after such an intense night.

“You aren’t making it any easier, you know,” sighs Tonks after a while, smiling faintly against his lips, “not wanting to steal you away, you beautiful soul.”

“I know,” breathes Harry, brushing her hair behind her ear gently, “And I guess it doesn’t help either that the sex is so _good_ ,” he teases, a lopsided grin on his lips.

“So _bloody_ good,” agrees Tonks in a breathy laugh.

Harry chuckles before going quiet and looking deep into her eyes.

“You _are_ beautiful,” he allows himself to tell her and he knows she understands all the unsaid things behind his words because unlike last time, when they’d made them both somehow uncomfortable, this time they feel _right_ and, silently, they are closing the loop.

  
  


***

_Harry is staring at the ceiling, watching the early morning lights dance on the chandelier. His heartbeat is slow and his body relaxed in a way only a post-orgasmic haze can induce. He can feel the stickiness of dry sweat and come on his body but he doesn’t move._

_She’s sleeping._

_They don’t normally lie in bed together after sex, it’s too intimate, it isn’t their usual dance. Her body is snuggled against his side, wrong shape of hips against his thigh, soft belly against his hip, provocative starry sky blue shade on her fingernails over his stomach. Her breathing is slow and regular, her head resting on his chest._

_Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry can see tendrils of shockingly pink hair. His hand moves automatically to brush a sweaty lock out of her face._

_She looks peaceful in sleep. Gone are the defiant eyes, the cheeky grins and clumsy falls. She’s too quiet like this, out of character._

_He was never meant to see that side of her._

_Harry sighs, trying to stop the downward circle of dark thoughts that threaten to engulf him every time they are done fucking._

_Guilt, shame and more guilt -the woman lying naked against his spent body is not his wife. She’s someone else’s wife: an auror, a friend, a soldier in the war, the wife of his last living paternal figure, of his mentor, the mother of his godson, his work partner._

_Nymphadora Tonks._

_And whatever this is, it can’t be called a mistake anymore, a terrible terrible deed but a stupid mistake._

_It’s a major clusterfuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah feelings, I'm drowning in feelings!  
> I hope you liked it, this one was a long time coming but the story is not over yet, oh no ;)
> 
> PS: Congrats to my American readers, for their new President :D


	12. Deliverance

“You look good!” says Harry.

Hermione is wearing a light yellow summer dress, her skin is more tanned than he has ever seen it and there is a radiant smile on her face.

“Thank you, Harry,” she grins as he pulls a chair for her at the Ministry’s cafeteria.

Today’s menu is a tomato salad with avocado and a grilled cheese sandwich; Hermione eagerly tucks in, combing a lock of brown hair behind her ear. She’s got an incredibly giddy look about her on her first day back at work after her honeymoon and Harry notices the way she idly plays with her wedding band, a dreamy look on her face.

“How was the honeymoon?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows at her playfully.

Hermione gives him an amused eye roll, but she doesn’t hide her slightly cheeky grin and Harry chuckles.

“That good, eh?” he says, grinning appreciatively.

Hermione doesn’t take the friendly, teasing bait though, and starts telling him about all the wonders she and Ron saw in Florence, Roma, Verona and Lake Garda. It  _ does  _ seem pretty great actually, and Harry listens attentively as he tries to eat something despite the knots in his stomach.

When Hermione is done talking about the beautiful little island of Sirmione in Garda, her plate is empty and she relaxes in her chair, looking full and happy.

“How have  _ you  _ been?” she asks finally, giving him a long look.

“Fine,” answers Harry shortly, immediately stuffing his mouth with tomatoes even though he’s not hungry at all and feeling slightly queasy.

Hermione’s eyebrows raise as she looks at him silently and Harry wishes she’d look away. It feels like she’s x-raying his very soul, in the usual Hermione-can-see-right-through-you way.

It makes his stomach do unpleasant flips and Harry tries to think of something to say to move the attention away from him.

This lunch with Hermione is supposed to be a distraction, a nice way to fill his break while catching on with one of his best friends but Harry should have known Hermione would not miss how pale he looks today, or the fact that he’s hardly touched his food.

He only got back from Boston two days ago and his emotions are still running high. 

Intellectually, the end of his affair with Tonks is easy to rationalize. They have been incredibly honest with each other and are clear about the fact that they have personal and marriage issues to work on. Separately.

Emotionally, things are a bit more blurry. Harry and Tonks have become even closer than before in the span of a couple of months, confiding in each other and finding solace through sex. Converting this kind of intimacy into something... less  _ physical  _ requires some adjustments. Which leaves the hardest part; they have shared so many moments of heated madness over such a short period of time that they are left a bit awkward and lost when learning how to  _ not  _ touch each other again.

For instance, Harry resists the spontaneous urge to kiss Tonks as she smiles at him when he closes the door to his office behind her. He forces his eyes away from her body when she stretches during training, and though the fact that he still wants her is distressing, Harry reckons it is part of the price to pay for their two-months long folly. 

After all, one doesn’t just quit an addiction without any kind of withdrawal symptoms.

Separating feelings from lust helps to stay in control though, and for the most part, they are managing the new shift between them quite well since their heart-to-heart conversation in Boston. 

But then, there are those out of time moments of weirdness, when the tension between them is almost palpable. Harry can tell Tonks feels them too and  _ not  _ touching her in these moments, not sharing  _ that  _ kind of intimacy with her feels… odd. 

Harry supposes time will play in their favour and make things easier eventually. All they have to do is find a new balance--or restore the lost one--in their friendship and fill their free time with non-sexual, friendly and casual activities again, which is what this lunch with Hermione is all about.

“You’ve been a bit... distant, lately,” continues Hermione hesitantly, as if she could feel his reluctance to talk about himself.

“We’ve just all been very busy, I guess,” says Harry as casually as he can, trying to deflect the question.

Hermione hums, lost in thoughts, her eyes piercing him for another moment before she sighs and looks away.

“Well, will you come for dinner with James tomorrow night? I know it’s just the two of you and it must be a bit lonely. Ron would love to see you too, he misses you, we both do.”

“Of course, we’ll be there,” smiles Harry, his heart feeling warmer at the prospect of seeing his two best friends the following night. They almost never meet just the three of them anymore. 

He has no doubt Hermione will come back in full force with questions about him sometime later but for now, he’s glad she seems to concede and not press the issue further, giving him the warm, easy friendship he needs instead.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to confide in her, but it’s simply impossible. He’d love to be able to talk out his feelings with her, dealing with his dark moods was always Hermione’s speciality, after all, but explaining how he feels without telling her about his affair with Tonks seems pointless and there’s no way he’s going to confess to anyone about cheating on Ginny.

The “practical” talk he had with Tonks about the whole thing was efficient and crystal clear. They had no trouble agreeing that their affair must remain a secret. Harry needs to recommit to his wife and face his traumas. 

As for Tonks, she’s willing to give Remus a last chance. Harry didn’t comment on how sceptical she looked when she told him about her decision. He doesn’t blame her for hoping though, he doesn’t blame her for wanting to be with the one she loves. He doubts she’s ready to tell her husband the things she told  _ him _ , and the thought makes him extremely sad. He can’t help but feel sorry for her, for Remus and Teddy and he’s feeling guilty about his part in all this, even if he now knows he only accelerated the process and is not at the root of Tonks and Remus’ issues. 

And speaking of the man… Remus is suddenly walking towards them, Hermione enthusiastically waving him to their table.

Harry feels very warm all of a sudden, he’s used to meeting Remus at the Ministry (he’s a consultant in Hermione’s department and often drops by) but each time makes him feel torn between his affection for the man and his shame at his betrayal of him.

Hermione is smiling brightly at Remus, the two of them notoriously very fond of each other and after greeting Remus as casually as possible, Harry is glad to listen to his two friends exchanging news and friendly banter as he smiles or nods at all the appropriate times.

“Damn!” exclaims Hermione suddenly, looking at her watch and downing her coffee in one long sip, “I’ve got a meeting in five minutes, I’ve got to run!” and with quick affectionate squeezes on Harry and Remus’ forearms, she’s gone.

Harry quickly stands up, intending to make a quick polite escape at once, just like Hermione, but Remus stops him, grabbing the same forearm Hermione was just squeezing.

“Harry, would you mind if we had a quick word?” he asks quietly.

There’s something odd about how hesitant, almost awkward his voice sounds and Harry swallows, sitting back into his chair.

Remus looks at him silently for a very long time and Harry fights the urge to squirm in his chair. He’s feeling incredibly uncomfortable under Remus’ scrutiny and he decides to break the odd silence.

“What is it Remus?” he asks as casually and politely as he can manage.

Remus finally breaks eye contact with a small smile before biting his upper lip. Harry has hardly ever seen him acting so… tentative and he’s feeling incredibly panicky. What is this all about?

“I was wondering,” starts Remus, very slowly, locking his mossy green eyes with Harry’s again, “is… is Dora alright?” 

Harry gapes, his heart trying to escape his chest. 

“I think so,” he finally answers slowly, hesitantly.

“It’s just…” continues Remus a bit hesitantly, “well, she’s had some morphing issues lately, I trust you know that… and I can’t help but wonder if you and she had a… fallout of some sort?” he asks slowly, eyes boring into Harry’s.

Harry inhales a bit shakily, he’s incapable of looking away from Remus. He’s never seen him being so… open. It feels like he dropped his shield somehow and allowed Harry to see his vulnerability for a brief moment. Shame invades Harry and he hopes Remus can’t hear the way his heart is hammering.

“No,” he answers finally, looking down, “nothing of the sort.”

“Oh. Well. I’m glad to hear that. She just seemed a bit… unhappy lately and I noticed you two were acting a bit less… friendly than usual.” 

It’s no secret Harry and Tonks have grown very close friends these past few years and Remus highly approves. It seems logical he’d go to Harry for these kinds of questions but right now they are making Harry’s blood turn cold.

He tries to keep his composure and sends a small smile at Remus. He has no idea how to put Remus on the right track about Tonks’ feelings without incriminating himself or feeling like an utter scumbag for giving the man advice on marriage.

“We’re fine, honestly. I… don’t know what to tell you. Maybe ask her?” he tries cowardly, not meeting Remus’ eyes. He’s being lame at this but for the life of him, he can’t find anything else to say right now.

Remus gives him a polite smile and waves his hand dismissively, Harry can see him put his composure back into place very quickly, shielding himself behind a well-practised nonchalance.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry, I don’t want to bother you with this,” he says lightly, standing to leave.

“Remus!” says Harry suddenly.

Remus looks down at him surprisingly and Harry realises his voice must have sounded a bit panicky. 

“Just… you know, take good care of her…”

A small curious smile forms on Remus’ lips and he nods, patting Harry on the back gently, “of course, Harry. Thank you for looking out for her, see you soon,” he says, squeezing Harry’s shoulder before walking away.

***

On the day before James’ fifteenth month's birthday, Harry wakes up alone in bed with a lump in his throat and acid burning through his stomach. He’s feeling sick and he instantly knows why. 

Tomorrow James will turn exactly the same age Harry was the day he lost his parents. 

He’s willed himself not to make a huge thing of it all week. There are no reasons to draw parallels. Voldemort is gone, Harry saw to that. But as he lies in bed, Harry already knows how difficult this weekend is going to be anyway, and his body is betraying how terrible he feels. 

He closes his eyes against the piercing morning light, desperately wishing for another moment of peace before going through his day. He’s barely taken a deep shuddering breath before a crystal clear and painful image of his father instantly penetrates his mind. 

James Potter. 

The images scroll through Harry’s mind as if he had been there to witness them, as if he’d lived them himself, and on some fucked up level, he  _ has _ . He knows the images are not simply a product of his imagination but are partly  _ memories _ , a legacy of Voldemort and sharing his soul for so many years.

Harry can  _ see  _ his father trying to take on Voldemort without a wand, tripping on his feet in his haste to put himself between the Dark wizard and his family. Harry can  _ hear  _ the scuttling of Lily’s feet as she climbs up the stairs in a panic, holding baby Harry tightly. His nose is invaded by the pleasant smell of warm cookies before it’s quickly diluted by the fresh crisp air coming from where the cottage’s door has been blasted open. His senses are in overload.

Harry can see the sheer terror in James Potter’s hazel eyes when he realises his wife and son are about to be murdered, Voldemort’s cold laugh echoes in Harry’s ear, a green light blinds the room and everything goes dark. 

Harry feels his heart pounding in his chest and a dry sob escapes his throat. The pain that comes with these images is almost unbearable and he wishes his father could see him now and know he didn’t die in vain, that his son made sure his murderer would never kill again.

With immense difficulty, Harry forces himself out of bed. He wakes and dresses his son, holding the little boy’s hand a bit tighter than necessary as they make their way to the kitchen. He drops James’ bottle twice before he manages to secure the nipple to it while his son plays with crumbs, humming happily, and Harry feels like a ghost in his own life.

When Molly drops in to pick up her grandson half an hour later, she fusses over Harry’s peakiness and presses a slice of treacle tart into his hands, urging him to  _ eat something _ . Harry obeys, too numb to protest and knowing it would be useless to remind his mother in law that he is a grown man capable of taking care of himself. 

But as Harry looks at himself in the mirror after Molly and James have left and sees how pale and sickly he looks, he reflects that maybe his mother in law is right, he can’t take care of himself, not today.

He enters his office feeling numb and empty, his body aching and sweaty. Harry knows his mental state is overpowering his body today, but he stubbornly refuses to let it drown him as he sits at his desk. He takes a long shuddering breath and wills himself not to throw up his treacle tart all over his files.

He manages for a whole hour, secluded and unproductive in his office, before Tonks knocks at the door, a little crowd of freshly graduated Hogwarts students in her wake.

“Wotcher, Harry! These guys are our new recruits!” She announces joyfully, smiling brightly at him. Her face immediately crumbles when she notices how unwell he looks and she quickly turns around to face the recruits instead.

“Guys, this is Harry Potter,” she says quickly, “now go and find the cafeteria, I think we all deserve some coffee.”

She gestures the recruits out of Harry’s office quickly, shepherding a couple of straddlers out when they stay to ogle at Harry instead of leaving. Finally, she closes the door and immediately rushes to his side.

“What’s wrong?” she asks urgently, placing her palm to his forehead. “Fuck, Harry, you don’t look well, you’re all sweaty and pale as an inferi!”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, not meeting her eyes.

“Cut the bullshit, you’re not fine! What is it?”

Harry hesitates, even as nausea threatens to make him puke right in front of Tonks. He lets out a long sigh, closes his eyes and covers his face with his hands.

“Tomorrow,” he starts slowly, his voice slightly muffled through his fingers, “James will be exactly the same age I was when my parents died.”

There is a long silence and then:

“Oh, Harry…”

Tonks kneels next to him and immediately hugs him, holding his head tightly against her shoulder blade. They stay in that embrace for what feels like a very long time until Tonks gently pulls away.

“Go home, Harry,” she says gently but firmly, “you should be with your family today, not at work.”

Harry rubs his eyes to stop the burning sensation in them, Tonks has seen enough of his tears lately.

“Ginny has a match on Sunday,” he says in a long exhale, “she won’t be home until Monday… and James… James is at the Burrow.”

“All the same, go and pick him up,” insists Tonks, “spend the weekend with your son, it’s Friday and I promise we can spare you for the day, there are more important things than work, Harry.”

Eventually, Harry nods, swallowing the lump in his throat and rising on shaky legs.

Tonks gives a short satisfied nod and slowly makes her way towards the door.

“Wait!” says Harry, quickly striding towards her. 

Tonks watches him approach her with a strange mixture of feelings on her face. But then Harry is hugging her fiercely, his nose into her neck and he feels her arms gently closing around him. 

He shuts his eyes tightly, feeling the warmth spread through his body. For a mad second, Harry wishes she could take his pain away but he knows  _ this  _ is over and he’ll have to find another way to deal with his feelings. He has no idea how to do that though and he can feel his resolve waver. 

Burying his nose deeper into her purple hair, he inhales the sweet, bubblegum scent of her before slowly, reluctantly, forcing himself to pull away from her, breathing a shaky “Thank you” in her ear.

Tonks gently removes her arms from his waist and smiles a bit sadly, “you’re welcome, love,” she breathes, her eyes watery.

***

Molly is a bit surprised to see Harry exit the fireplace, still pale and not looking well but she doesn’t question him when he explains that he took a day off to be with James. 

He has a feeling she understands more about what is going on with him today than she’s letting on though when she pats his cheek gently and says,  _ “Everything is going to be okay now, Harry dear” _ with unshed tears in her eyes and he briefly closes his own burning ones.

Harry lands in Godric’s Hollow with his son tightly secured in his arms a few minutes later. The sun is bright in the sky and although it’s still early in the day, the summer heat is already at work. 

They walk hand in hand through the graveyard alleys, by-passing familiar names, moving purposely towards the place Harry needs to visit with his son today. It’s not the first time he comes here with James but today holds a particular meaning.

James and Lily Potter’s tombstone is immaculate and Harry conjures a bouquet of white roses before kneeling next to his son.

“I’m sure grandad James and grandma Lily would be very proud of you, Jamie,” he starts, feeling his heartbeat slowly in his chest even as a tear glides down his cheek. But for once, he doesn’t care at all, he’s held back his tears all morning and he doesn’t care if his son sees him crying.

“I wish you could have known them. I wish  _ I  _ could have known them,” says Harry very softly.

James is incredibly quiet, looking at his father with his head cocked to the side as if some part of him understands that this moment is special, important.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very happy lately,” sighs Harry, “but I want you to know it’s got nothing to do with you, you are  _ perfect,  _ and I will never leave you voluntarily.  _ Never _ . Whatever happens, you must know that,” he breathes, voice breaking with emotion, “I love you James, and I promise to get better, but right now, I just miss your grandparents so much...” he tells his son, holding his tiny hands and squeezing them gently as he looks into his brown eyes.

James gives him a short look with his round, curious eyes before his patience runs out and he starts picking up little rocks and rolling them between his fingers. 

Harry stares at his parents’ grave for another long moment before tearing his eyes away.

“Come on, let’s go and get some ice-cream now,” he says eventually, glancing down at his son and feeling some invisible weight lift from his shoulders.

  
  


***

James and Harry nap for most of the afternoon. The couch is large enough for both of them, and when James starts snoring, Harry is irrepressibly reminded of the little boy’s uncle, and the familiar and safe sound helps him relax and fall asleep with his son’s little fists tucked against his chest.

Harry is awoken by the roaring sound of the fireplace sometime later and he immediately jumps up, grabbing his wand as he turns towards the sound.

“Ginny?” he asks in bewilderment, lowering his wand, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until Monday, what about the game?” 

Ginny bits her lip and quickly drops her bag to hug him fiercely.

“I had a feeling…” she breathes into his neck, “I had to come home, I couldn’t leave you to face tomorrow alone.”

Harry swallows thickly, incredibly grateful and touched that Ginny guessed this weekend would be especially difficult for him, even if he did not confess to her about it in the first place. 

He really  _ wanted  _ to but he knew Ginny had to play on Sunday and it seemed useless to make her worry when there was nothing she could do about it anyway.

“But what about the game?” he repeats faintly, too grateful to let go of her. 

“Quidditch can wait,” she sighs, “they weren’t happy about having to reschedule the match but I told them to either replace me or stuff their quaffle through their arses because my husband and son  _ need  _ me.”

Harry lets out a choked sound and discreetly wipes a tear on her shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, holding his wife tightly.

***

They fall in bed together that night, and Harry feels overwhelmed by his emotions again. Being surrounded by the love of his wife and son made him feel almost euphoric and his distress took a back seat while he enjoyed a rare, lazy afternoon with his loved ones.

But right now, even as Ginny is riding him slowly, sensually, tears threaten to escape his eyes and Harry has to close them. His emotions are unstable, swinging from euphoria to intense fear within the minute and he feels mentally exhausted. 

He’s overwhelmed by the pain of knowing his parents died with terror in their eyes, by his irrational fear that history might repeat itself, that someone might want to hurt his son, but also by his undying love and gratitude for Ginny. And behind it all, there’s his strong  _ guilt _ . This wild mixture of emotions is too much to handle and Harry finds he has a hard time breathing evenly.

“Shhhh, it’s fine, Harry, look, we’re all very much alive,” says Ginny gently, looking down at him as she moves slowly, “I can  _ feel  _ how alive you are,” she grins, undulating over him.

Gods, he loves her so much, and he doesn’t deserve her at all.

“Ginny…” he breathes, not sure exactly what he wants to tell her.

Her words and the fact that she came home  _ for  _ him this weekend are proof enough that she perfectly understands part of what is making him such an emotional mess. As for the rest… she can’t know. Harry can’t tell her just to assuage his guilt, it isn’t fair to tell her, to hurt her like this.

The intensity of his feelings must be visible on his face though because Ginny takes a shuddering breath and lowers herself against his chest, their bodies still connected in the most intimate way.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Harry before he can help it, “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you.”

“ _ Stop _ saying that…” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a plea, “you’re everything I ever wanted and I’m not going anywhere. Now shut up and make love to me.  _ Please _ .”

Harry closes his eyes and he can’t prevent a moan from escaping his lips as Ginny starts to ride him faster, her breasts flush with his naked skin, her hot breath against his lips. 

Where her words can’t completely quieten his emotions, the physical pleasure she’s giving him manages it and Harry feels his mind slowly going blank with anything except his urgent lust and love for the woman making love to him.

Gripping Ginny’s waist tightly, Harry swiftly reverses their positions, kissing her fiercely as he enters her again. His body moves slowly and purposefully, each thrust seems to bring them closer. Harry buries his face into Ginny’s neck, the sweet floral scent of her--that he can never get enough of--and the softness of her diaphanous skin quickly driving him over the edge.

Ginny kisses him, fiercely, gripping his shoulders hard, holding on to him, as if to prevent him from slipping between her fingers, and Harry shivers at the strength of her love for him. 

“ _ I love you, _ ” he chokes out when he comes.

***

The next couple of weeks fly by as Harry focuses all his energy on being a good husband. The awkward moments with Tonks happen less and less and, although there are still times when glancing at her makes Harry relive forbidden memories with acute sharpness, he knows they are both slowly but steadily adjusting to the shift in their relationship, no matter how painfully difficult it sometimes is.

The party to announce and celebrate the numerous promotions within the Auror Department is just around the corner and the mood at the office is pretty joyful. Robards has taken over on the Scabior case and Harry is grateful. He has no desire to look into the past, he needs to move forward, now more than ever.

The irrational fear that was overtaking him ever since his son's birthday has lessened, even though it will forever be part of Harry, he’s finally accepted his own feelings. 

Also, the milestone of James’ fifteenth month’s birthday being behind him seems to have largely diluted Harry’s fears.

He’s feeling incredibly lighter, despite his strong guilt, which is now the dominant-negative feeling inside him. 

Ironically, it took Harry getting slightly better for a small part of him to want to come clean to Ginny about his affair. He has to crush that particular ache down though. He can’t bear the idea of hurting Ginny, can’t bear to ask her for forgiveness when he doesn’t think he deserves it anyway.

His affair with Tonks is over and even if it was a betrayal of Ginny’s love, it also helped Harry get over some of his issues and for that, he’s immensely grateful. So, seeing as he can’t find it in himself to truly regret his choices, there’s no way he can ask for his wife’s forgiveness.

Harry has also almost convinced himself that Ginny  _ might,  _ perhaps, find it in herself to forgive him in the end if he asked her to, and he never wants to force her into that position of weakness, she deserves so much better than that. And if she doesn’t forgive him then…  _ then what _ ? This possibility is even more frightening and solidifies Harry’s decision to  _ never  _ tell Ginny.

He’s got to look forward, not into the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me, this was a necessary, transitory chapter. Harry needed to face some of his deepest issues.


	13. Relapse

The Burrow’s garden is full of laughter and joy on the afternoon of the 31st of July. Years of celebrating Harry’s birthday at the Weasleys made practically tradition, and his 25th is no exception.

The weather is warm and, by mid-afternoon, everybody has traded robes for t-shirts and shorts or light dresses, as they lounge on the wide, colorful sheets set over the yellow grass, drinking iced tea and sharing Harry’s huge birthday cake.

Teddy, Victoire, little Molly, and little Fred are running around the garden in swimsuits, playing with muggle water guns, soaked to their skins and perfectly happy while James tries to catch up with them, desperate to join the little gang of older troublemakers.

The adults, after a wild game of Quidditch and a fantastic meal--courtesy of Molly, are relaxing on the grass, too full to do much except lie there, chat and chuckle at their kids’ antics. 

Harry is talking with Bill when he catches Ginny standing up out of the corner of his eye. A smirk briefly graces his features before he puts on his best poker face, his eyes discreetly following her outline as she walks casually towards the Burrow.

This is  _ their  _ tradition. Every birthday, since Harry turned 17, is celebrated at the Borrow, and every birthday, Ginny lures him into her bedroom for  _ her  _ very special gift.

Harry waits another two minutes before standing up, trying not to look too suspicious as he casually walks towards the house. However, as his eyes briefly catch the small knowing smirk on Hermione's face, and Ron’s pained grimace next to her, Harry knows he’s not fooling them.

Most of the adults probably have guessed what Harry and Ginny are up to, they are just pretending not to know. But as long as Molly and Arthur remain in the dark about what is happening under their roof every 31st July, Harry doesn’t really care about the others. Still, he purposely avoids making eye contact with any of them on his way into the house and focuses instead on the butterflies in his stomach.

The heat up there is almost unbearable, and it’s fast and bloody messy but perfect in many ways; Harry’s back against the bright yellow wall of Ginny’s childhood room while she efficiently coaxes low moans out of him; his hips thrusting in rhythm, his fingers tangling in her fiery red hair, her brown eyes boring into his as he comes with a shuddering moan. 

They return to the garden not very long after and Harry pretends not to hear George’s sniggers as he does his walk of shame, sitting on the same spot he left not even twenty minutes ago. 

“You are getting subtler and subtler every year with your  _ special  _ gift, dear sister,” teases George, a smirk on his face, while Ron very ostentatiously groans next to them.

To her credit, Ginny only smirks, not caring at all about the teasing but resuming her seat, lying with her head on her husband’s thigh.

Harry can’t help but grin a bit sheepishly, this day is pretty fantastic and he doubts anything could lower his spirits, especially in his current post-Quidditch game, post-birthday cake and post-orgasmic haze, and surrounded by all his favourite people in the world. He closes his eyes and enjoys the warm caress of the sun on his skin while his fingers lazily trail through Ginny’s silky red hair, thinking only about how happy and almost peaceful he feels. Finally.

***

Scabior appeals against his original sentence. 

Harry hears the news late in the afternoon on the Monday following his birthday and, although it’s not really a surprise, it makes him very uncomfortable.

The information the snatcher passed on to the Auror department has indeed been useful, and as promised, the court must now reexamine his case. Scabior has spent the last seven years behind bars and is due for another five. The tricky part is that most of what he did to muggleborns wasn’t against the law at the time, so the only thing he was actually charged for was complicity in war crime and services to Voldemort.

As far as Harry is concerned, these charges are enough to keep the snatcher behind bars for another ten years, at least. But this is not how justice works, and he has to accept it. Scabior has held good conduct in Azkaban and transferred secret information he overheard there to the Ministry in order to negotiate his remaining sentence, which is what will happen on Friday.

Harry quickly decides to stay away from it all. He has no desire to look into the past. He’s not in charge of that case anyway and he trusts Kingsley and the Wizengamot to judge Scabior for what he has done. It’s not Harry’s job to decide on the man’s sentence. It is his job, however, to use the information provided by the snatcher and make arrests. 

Things get a bit messy in Liverpool that day, and obliviators are called in to set right a few muggles that witnessed the arrest, but, by the end of the day, Azkaban is filled with another six new residents, and Harry is adorned with a new scar to his left wrist from a splash of illegal white-hot scorching essence.

Ginny being back in Wales for another week, Harry has no choice but to try and change his bandage himself the next day, knowing no one will be there to help him at home, and too lazy to go to St Mungo’s and ask for someone to do it for him. 

He’s struggling with the long bandage, holding one end of it between his teeth as he tightens the whole thing when someone knocks at the door. 

Harry mumbles something, mouth too busy to properly say “enter” and a second later, Tonks is there, jet-black hair falling under her chin, eyes as blue as a clear sky, red Auror robes casually thrown over her shoulder.

“Are you kidding me?” she says, her eyes falling on Harry who is still struggling with the bandage, “you  _ could  _ ask for help, you know?” she adds, rolling her eyes and immediately moving forward to help him.

Tonks sits next to him and starts completely undoing the bandage before carefully redoing it, adjusting it on his arm and taking extra care in checking it isn’t too tight before securing it. 

Her long lashes seem to caress her cheeks as she looks down at his arm. Her sweet bubblegum scent reaches his nose, and Harry is aware that they haven't been this physically close in weeks. He feels a bit clouded by her proximity but strangely peaceful. 

He almost easily blocks out memories before they flow into his brains, and watches Tonks as she works, feeling both comfortable and strangely aware of her. 

There is gentleness in her gestures as she takes care of his wrist and Harry reckons she’s more than used to dealing with injuries and bandages. 

The notion that it’s most likely because she has a husband, who happens to be a werewolf, helps Harry keep his thoughts in check.

“Thanks,” he says softly once she’s done, “it’s way better than what I did,” he adds, a bit sheepishly.

“Yeah, well, you’ve got to change that every day for the next five days, so unless you intend on going to St Mungo’s,  _ ask  _ me next time, alright?” she says, her tone a bit patronizing.

“Will do, boss” nods Harry, before grinning and doing a ridiculous military salute.

“Yeah, you better remember. I’m still officially your Senior, even if it’s only for another few days,” she teases through her grin.

The bandage is pretty perfect and Harry examines it absentmindedly, slowly flexing his fingers a few times, as recommended by the healer that treated his injury. He’s still pretty sore but immensely grateful that he didn’t hurt his wand arm.

“Anyway, I just saw Kingsley and he asked to see you about the Scabior case,” says Tonks, watching him open and close his hand.

Harry looks up, brow furrowing slightly.

“What for?”

“No idea,” shrugs Tonks, “I told him I’d relay the message though, so make sure to drop by and see him before you leave,” she finishes.

“Do you think he’s going to win?” asks Harry in a low voice.

Tonks remains silent for a moment, her eyes travelling over Harry’s desk before looking up at him. 

“I honestly don’t know, Harry,” she says softly, “he  _ has  _ been the model prisoner according to Azkaban… and he helped us arrest those six potioneers. But I  _ hate  _ the idea of setting him free...” she finishes, biting her lip, her grief for her father briefly visible on her face.

Harry nods, he knows exactly how she feels. It’s difficult to imagine that people who served Voldemort and helped round up muggleborns might already get freed when so many are still mourning lost loved ones, Tonks amongst them. 

But muggleborns rarely have any wizarding family to fight for their memory in front of the Ministry, and Harry knows Scabior is aware of that. The snatcher wasn’t charged with murder after the war, whether he actually killed muggleborns or not, is everyone best guess. If he can convince the Wizengamot that he’s reformed, no one will bat an eye before releasing him. Which is a depressing notion, really, one that Harry already knows will make Tonks and Hermione understandably furious. He’d rather not remember that fateful night when Scabior delivered them to Malfoy Manor and everything that happened to Hermione there.

Harry sighs, not at all at ease about what might happen on Friday but knowing he can’t use his influence when it comes to justice. It looks like time has come to see exactly how much the wizarding society has changed regarding the fate of muggleborns.

***

“I wanted to talk about it with  _ you  _ first, Harry,” says Kingsley in his low baritone voice, observing Harry carefully.

When no answer comes out of Harry, who is still trying to absorb the news, feeling his recently renewed peacefulness shatter abruptly, Kingsley slides down from his desk and moves around the room to stand in front of the gigantic window overlooking the Atrium.

His hands are clasped behind his back, his low voice carrying a slight hesitancy.

“I could ask Hermione or Ronald-”

“No,” interrupts Harry shortly, “I’ll do it.”

Kingsley faces him, his lips tugged into a tight smile as he nods.

“I’m sorry to have to ask you to do that, Harry, I hope you know that,” he sighs.

Harry gives a short, perfunctory nod but doesn’t comment. Having to testify at Scabior’s second trial is not a task he would have volunteered for but he can’t very well let Hermione or Ron go through that night at Malfoy’s Manor again. The Wizenmagot needs to watch his memory of that night to assess Scabior’s motivations at the time. His dedication to his task and the  _ pleasure  _ he might have shown doing it will most certainly play a part in their decision.

“When?” asks Harry simply.

“Friday, 6 PM. I know the promotion party at Auror Headquarters is planned for that night but hopefully, you’ll be done by 8 PM.”

Harry nods again and with another cordial word from Kinglsey, he’s dismissed and free to go home.

***

Harry spends the next couple of days desperately trying not to think about Malfoy Manor. It’s bad enough that he’ll have to relive and show the memory to a room full of Wizengamot members, there’s no need for him to torture himself in the meantime.

Yet, this is easier said than done, for everything suddenly seems to remind him of that night and there is no trace of his previous feeling of peace left in him. 

A hand-shake with Bolpy the house-elves representative’s in a corridor, a brief glint of light reflected on the massive chandelier overlooking the Atrium are enough to instantly send Harry back to Malfoy Manor. 

He even lives a mad second of terror while doing groceries with his son in muggle London on Wednesday, as an unknown woman walks in front of them in the street, a mane of thick, dark, curly hair cascading down her shoulders.

All in all, Harry can’t wait for Friday to be done with, he’s determined to testify and put all this behind him again, where it belongs.

***

“Kings’ told me you’re going to testify tomorrow,” says Tonks softly as she works on his bandage.

Her hair is a dark shade of gold today, and Harry wonders if he’ll ever see the pink again. When he asked her how things were with Remus almost a week ago, she answered with a sigh and a hollow  _ “you know” _ and he immediately dropped the subject, sensing she had no desire to elaborate. He feels completely powerless to help her.

“Yes,” he exhales softly.

Tonks glances up at him, her fingers pausing before her head shakes slightly and her eyes return to her task.

Harry observes as she rolls the bandage around his wrist, the rebellious starry sky colour of her nails contrasting with the gentleness of her fingers. Her thigh is pressed against his; a warm, comforting presence that somehow grounds him to the present.

“For the record,” she says eventually, not hiding her irritation, “I think it’s utter shit to ask you to do that, and I let Kingsley have a piece of my mind on the subject.”

A half-smiles forces itself upon Harry’s face. Tonks’ protectiveness over him has always been discreet but solid and Harry has a feeling that now that she knows how incredibly difficult things have been for him lately, it’s only going to get stronger.

He’s secretly grateful and oddly relieved that someone truly understands how difficult this is for him without having to discuss it in depth. It makes Harry feel less alone and for a moment his heart feels warmer than it has for the past two days.

He’s still watching her when she looks up, having satisfactorily secured his new bandage. 

Their eyes lock.

The stormy grey orbs are looking up at him and it suddenly feels like Harry is being sucked into them, getting lost into their depth. 

As if a dam suddenly collapsed, it all flows into Harry’s brain at once, the wave completely flooding his senses. He can feel it into his whole body, the memory of her touch, the vision of her fantastic body and how it felt under him, the explosive, breathy sounds of her ecstasy... 

The glorious insanity of their two months folly strikes him like a tsunami and he suddenly, desperately, longs for the sheer abandon of being with her. 

And in the intensity of the blazing look she’s giving him, in the whirlwind raging in her stormy grey eyes, Harry sees the same memories and fire rush through her. She’s thinking about it too.

_ No. _

Harry tears his eyes away from Tonks with difficulty. He swallows the lump in his throat, his hands are sweaty and his heart is beating too fast. He feels more than he sees Tonks slowly rise from her chair next to him, the warm flesh of her thigh leaving coldness in its stake. 

He can’t look at her right now, he can’t. The air is charged with forbidden memories and off-limits desires, and Harry suddenly feels panicky. He thought they had this under control, thought they had managed to move on, eliminate this suffocating tension between them and found a new balance.

Tonks clears her throat softly, running a hand through her hair, and with faint “ _ see you, Harry _ ”, the door closes behind her and Harry lets out a low groan, banging his head against the hard surface of his desk.

***

The trial lasts much longer than anticipated and by the time it’s finally Harry’s turn to testify, night has fallen through the enchanted windows of courtroom number three.

When Harry’s part in it is finally over, he exits the courtroom on cotton-like legs. 

Shutting his eyes tightly, he leans back against the wall to catch his breath, the silence in the deserted corridor making his own heartbeat sound incredibly loud in his ears.

His head feels like someone is trying to split it in two with an axe, a common side effect of digging into one’s memories. Harry tries to extract himself from the memories he just forced at the front of his mind but it’s useless. 

Everything entangles in his mind and he can still smell the citrus scent of Malfoy Manor’s dining room, mixed with the putrid smell of its cellar. He can still hear Hermione’s screams of pain and see the glint of terror in Wormtail’s eye as his own hand closes around his throat. Bellatrix’s mad cackles echo in his ears even as Greyback leers at Hermione, one long dirty fingernail scratching filthy stubble, and hot blood trickles between Harry’s fingers as Dobby dies in his arms.

Harry forces his eyes open and discovers that his legs have slid down the wall. The feeling of warm blood on his fingers lingers and, looking down, Harry realises he has punctured his own skin with his fingernails.

Still breathing hard, he heals himself with a shaky hand and rises on his weak legs, walking away from the courtroom and up three floors, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors.

***

The party at Auror Headquarters is fading by the time Harry makes it there. Families have already left, as well as most of the eldest Aurors. Those left are mostly juniors, too young to have a family, or too intoxicated to apparate just yet. A few older, family-less Seniors are grouped in one corner. Tonks, of course, has been waiting for him.

“Harry! You  _ just  _ missed Teddy!” she says as a greeting, a bottle of Butterbeer in one hand, “and you missed Ron and Hermione too, she wasn’t feeling very well-” 

Harry is aware that Tonks is still talking, he catches words such as  _ nauseous, poor thing, full moon, tomorrow, hippogriff  _ and  _ cute silver hair, _ but he can’t focus on their meaning, his brains refuse to cooperate, and he walks steadfastly towards the desk that has been converted into a bar.

He needs a drink. Several, actually. And although he knows it’s not the healthiest of choices and probably won’t help with his headache, Harry doesn’t give a shit. He just needs to dull his mind quickly and efficiently.

“Are you alright?” asks Tonks very softly as she joins him at the bar, both standing there, their back to their colleagues. 

“No,” answers Harry shortly, raising his glass to his lips. 

He can’t pretend, not with Tonks. The sweet bubblegum scent of her skin invade his nose, half covering the rot and citrus his brains are still conjuring to torture him, and his nostrils flare. He empties his glass of Firewhiskey in one long gulp and immediately refills it. 

Tonks squeezes his forearm gently, but before she can say anything, Morisson and Byers are making their way towards the bar in raucous laughter and Harry grits his teeth, turning away from Tonks.

The noise is not doing anything for his headache and he suddenly wishes for silence. But he can’t face the idea of going home and being alone in his too-big too-quiet house right now.

He’s not trying to fool himself, he already knows there won’t be any sleep for him tonight, and if by some miracle he manages it, nightmares clearly are on the schedule. Thank God James is staying at the Burrow tonight. 

So, alcohol it is. 

Surprisingly, the Firewhiskey  _ does  _ help against the headache. It’s doing nothing against Harry’s almost feverish state though, and he’s feeling too edgy to sit. He politely rebuffs a few colleagues trying to engage him into conversation and lingers very close to the bar, downing glass after glass of Firewhiskey until he feels the first effects hit him, the growing numbness it slowly brings to his mind.

He can feel Tonks’ eyes on him, like a comforting caress but he’s glad she knows him better than to try and talk to him right now. She’s giving him the space he needs, absentmindedly chatting with Madley and Boot while keeping a slightly worried eye on him.

It’s not long before the loud group of Juniors does a last raid on the bar and agrees on moving the party to a muggle bar they love, and Harry flees to the bathroom before they try to drag him with them.

He stands in front of the mirror, his hands on the sides of the sink for a very long time. His bandage is hanging loose around his wrist, the top of his new scar visible. Eyes closed, he tries to control his breathing and feel the alcohol flow through his veins, like a gentle and invisible wave of relief.

Eventually, Harry looks up, catching his reflection in the mirror. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his skin is too pale and his eyes are unfocused. It’s apparent that he’s been drinking a lot in a very short time.

He’s not feeling any less edgy though and the cold water he brings to his mouth and splashes his face with only makes him more agitated, like an unwelcome wake up of his slightly numb mind.

He’s not drunk enough.

Harry returns to the party, only to discover everyone has left. Honestly, it’s a relief, even if the silence is more painful than the laughter, at least he can drop the act and drink in peace now.

He’s fixing himself a glass of firewhiskey when the air changes around him and he instantly knows he’s not alone. Turning around to face the room, Harry’s eyes land on Tonks’ back at the other end of the open space. Her robes are thrown over her shoulder, her duffle bag is under her arm, she’s locking her office. She’s leaving. 

He watches her quietly, siping his firewhiskey and licking the burning liquid off his lips. He doesn’t call for her, doesn’t make a sound, but watches as she prepares to leave, oblivious to his presence.

“Harry!” exclaims Tonks, when she turns around and startles slightly, finally noticing him standing there in silence, "I thought you'd left."

Her eyes narrow slightly and for a long moment she looks at him, her eyes travelling from his face to his wrist and back up again. She sighs.

“Come on, let’s fix that bandage,” she says, unlocking her office again and waving him over.

In all honesty, Harry doesn’t give a fuck about his bandage but he obliges Tonks’ command and silently moves towards her, his eyes following the long wavy plum hair cascading down her back, the curve of her waist, and the black silky skirt she’s wearing. Her legs look incredibly long tonight.

Tonks motions him to sit on the edge of her desk as she fumbles with a first aid kit and again, Harry obeys silently, his eyes never leaving her. 

Tonks starts working, carefully removing the bandage and Harry’s eyes don’t stray from her face. She looks concentrated on her task, her fingers moving with extreme gentleness. There is a rosy tint to her cheeks, whether it’s from alcohol or because she can feel the intensity of his gaze on her, Harry doesn’t know and he’s not sure he cares. Still, none of them has uttered a single word since she asked him to come to her office.

The air feels charged and when memories of their heated moments on this very desk barely a few weeks ago poke at the edge of his mind, Harry lets them in almost gladly. He’s got no fight left in him tonight, only the deep desire to forget and dissipate any trace of Malfoy Manor from his mind. He wants to fall over the precipice.

Tonks’ thumb brushes his palm as she secures his bandage and before Harry can think, he’s entangling their fingers together, her warm hand secured in his.

Tonks lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her eyes fixed on their joined hands but makes no move to pull away. And still, Harry says nothing.

It feels like the room is vibrating with tension, stretching the space to a breaking point, and Harry knows what is going to happen before it does.

Finally, infinitesimally slowly, Tonks looks up from under her lashes and her eyes lock with Harry’s. 

It’s all it takes for the room to implode around them.

They both move at the same time, their lips crashing together, their fingers immediately sinking into thick hair, along soft skin and under fabric. 

The kiss is frantic, urgent, messy. 

Desperate sounds are coming out of Tonks’ throat as Harry pulls her flush against him, and already he’s straining inside his jeans, pressing his hips against her body. 

He’s feeling on fire, half-numb and desperate to touch any part of her body he can reach. He kisses her like he’s drowning, one hand cupped around her cheek, the other one finding its way under her shirt and palming her breast firmly. There’s no stopping him.

His eyes close when Tonks’ slightly trembling hand travels between their bodies, to the bulge in his trousers and Harry lets out the first sound since he entered her office. His low moan seems to unlock another level of urgency between them and Harry swiftly lifts Tonks from her feet, dropping her on the edge of the desk, his hands tearing at her clothes urgently. 

Their eyes meet, and Tonks whimpers. There’s desperation in hers, mixed with wildfire. She swallows thickly at the look of utter lust in Harry’s eyes.

His lips find her naked breasts, covering her skin with furious, urgent, wet kisses. His tongue traces down her body, and Harry’s senses are overwhelmed with the feel of her, the bubblegum scent and salty taste of her skin, the enticing curves of her body. He quickly tugs her skirt down and impatiently discards her from her knickers, immediately burying his face between her thighs.

“Oh God!” gasps Tonks.

She instantly arches her back, her breathing loud as she obeys the pressure of Harry’s hands and lets her thighs fall wide open, exposing her beautifully. She moans and shudders when his tongue finds her clit, and Harry’s eyes roll back in bliss. 

Yes. She tastes like oblivion.

He’s so fucking hard and needy right now that his brains have shut down and it’s the best feeling ever. This, and the sweet taste of Tonks’ glorious juices on his tongue, her intoxicating and freeing scent. 

One of Harry’s hands finds its way into his jeans and he moans in relief, wrapping his fingers around his hard length. He gives it a few solid pumps, sucking Tonks’ clit hungrily, making her trash on the desk and moan incoherent words to him.

It doesn’t take much time for Tonks’ to cry out as she comes on Harry’s tongue, more of her essence coating his chin and lips as she presses her thighs hard against the side of his face while riding her orgasm. 

Harry doesn’t relent his assault on her cunt though, his tongue still circling her clit madly and after another moment Tonks shudders and Harry feels her try to pull away from his tongue.

His grip on her thighs is probably bruising, and when he doesn’t stop his assault, Tonks whimpers.

“Fuck, Harry!” she moans, almost desperately, torn between pleasure and pain.

Her fingers pull at his hair roughly and Harry groans, loving the burn her actions are leaving on his skull. He finally raises his head from her centre and takes a deep, shaky breath, realising just how oxygen-deprived he is. 

Tonks uses his short moment of weakness to slither from his grip and stand up, and from the look in her eyes, Harry briefly wonders if she’s going to slap him. They stare at each other for a very long time and Harry’s chest is heaving as he licks her taste off his lips, waiting silently for her to either slap him or fuck him, nothing matters anymore.

After a short moment, that feels like an eternity, she shoves him harshly into her office chair and immediately starts tugging at his jeans and boxers impatiently. Harry immediately helps her get rid of his clothes, until he’s naked for her, his hard cock resting against his belly.

He doesn’t move but watches, breathing hard, as Tonks’ fingers wrap around his shaft. She climbs on his lap then, her legs falling on either side of him before slowly sinking down onto his cock. 

Their low moans echo against each other’s lips, the room feels like a furnace and, quite suddenly, through his lust-addled brains, Harry realises he’s surrounded by pink.

His fingers graze Tonks’ cheek gently, incredibly gently, and tangle around a lock of pink hair. He looks into her eyes and lets out a shaky exhale before starting to move his hips up, setting up a slow rhythm.

His hands are travelling all over her back, kneading a handful of her perfect arse and Tonks arches her back in response, pushing her breasts into his face. Harry gladly dives down, burying his nose between her mounds as Tonks starts to undulate her hips, following his slow rhythm. 

Harry is barely aware of how loudly he’s breathing, groaning and muttering filthy words against Tonks’ chest. He feels wrapped into her, into the solid comfort of her presence, into the heat of her body and the blissful oblivion she provides.

His fingers are probably leaving bruises on her arse as he holds on to it tightly, using his grip to sink her down on him harder. With a faint whimper, Tonks suddenly pulls away from him. Harry’s cock slips out of her and the sudden cold air almost burns his hot flesh, the feeling eliciting a desperate moan from him. 

Tonks turns around, beads of sweat running down her spine and Harry understands what she wants. His hands reach for her waist, accompanying her movement as she carefully sits back onto his cock, offering him a fantastic view of her arched back and arse as his cock slowly sinks back into her warmth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “fuck, Tonks!”

“Oh god...” she moans, “Oh fuck! Harry... this is... insane,” she half-moans, half-sobs.

_ This is insane _ , agrees Harry as he thrusts up into Tonks’ warm body, setting up a slow and hypnotizing rhythm with his hips. He didn’t mean to have sex with her again, but he can’t think about it right now, he can’t, and he doesn’t  _ want  _ to. 

It’s so fucking hard to kick such a blissful habit, after all. What more damage could one more time do anyway? Everything is so fucking irreversible already.

“Sex with you is like a drug,” he tells her in a very low voice, his lips moving ghostlike against the shell of her ear, “I swear this is our last fix.” 

And he means it.

Tonks breath catches in her throat at his words and then all tension seems to leave her shoulders as she sags on him, and Hary recognizes it as an invitation to fuck her as he pleases. Her back goes flush against his front, her eyes close, one of her arms reaches behind her to caress the hair at the nape of his neck as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

This position does not allow for a rapid rhythm, which is perfect because Harry is in no hurry, his thrusts are slow and deep, as if his body wanted to make the blissful abandon of fucking Tonks last as long as possible. He had no idea how much he’d missed that feeling.

Tonks’ moans are soft, her legs wide open over his thighs and Harry suddenly wishes there was a mirror in her office, so he could watch the reflection of their sin. 

All he can feel is Tonks; her warm and perfect body as she empties his mind and sends him closer to the edge, letting out moans after moans, her eyes shut tightly, her tits bouncing in his hands.

Completely lost in the perfection and insanity of the moment, Harry automatically leans around her side to  _ watch  _ the place where their bodies are joined. His teeth and tongue graze her ribs as he watches, hypnotized, the spectacular view of his cock sinking into pink warmth, again and again.

His pleasure instantly reaches new levels and Harry groans, struggling against his body’s need to climax and grounding himself by grabbing one of Tonks’ breasts in one hand, her hip in the other, as he starts thrusting harder, faster.

Tonks is almost bouncing on his cock, her moans getting louder and more desperate, when something abruptly changes around them. 

There is a sudden, strange pulse of powerful magic cracking in the air. 

It’s…  _ dark  _ and sends loud alarm bells ringing through Harry, trying to cut through his lust addled mind, calling to his reptilian brain.

_ Danger _ . 

But it’s not until  _ the voice _ breaks into Harry’s foggy brains that he looks up. And as his eyes land on the person standing there, his heart stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riiiiiiiiiiight. So that may be a bit cruel... :D
> 
> I'd love to hear your guesses about who just walked in on them...
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	14. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry for the long wait, life has been busy, especially at work! Anyway, end of suspense, here we are *anxiously waiting for you to read and comment*

“I can’t say I was expecting that.”

The voice cracks mid-sentence, going from cold shock to dangerously low.

Remus is standing stock still in the doorway of his wife’s office, face white, one hand clenched hard around the neck of a bottle of wine, the other frozen on the handle.

The world must be ending because every nerve in Harry’s body suddenly feels ice-cold and numb. He feels paralyzed, incapacitated.

He watches in horror as the bottle in Remus’ hand crashes to the floor, spattering red wine all over the floor. The door slams shut and falls from its hinges with a deafening sound behind Remus, in a powerful outburst of accidental magic. 

Menacing sparks of black magic fill the air all around Remus’ body, crackling like static electricity.

Harry mildly registers Tonks’ loud gasp of horror before she jumps off his lap and rushes to cover her body with her discarded robes. His senses are in overload but his eyes are fixed on Remus, and he can’t look away. His chest fills with dread at the vicious blackness he sees growing in Remus’ pupils, at the golden hue appearing in his eyes. 

In them, Harry can see the wolf. 

For the second time in his life, he can see the wolf within the man, and in his current state of shock and naked vulnerability, he’s _terrified_.

It all happens in the span of a few seconds, and then, the wolf’s feral stare is on him. 

Remus’ right wrist flicks in a sharp, crisp movement, and then Harry is flying. His back hits the wall painfully hard and he crumbles to the floor, naked and defenceless. 

Through the ringing in his ears, he can hear Tonks’ panicked cry and a ferocious, menacing low growl.

Harry doesn’t try to move or cover himself; his brains are buzzing, surely he must be fainting. But no, he can definitely hear Tonks’ anguished cries as she calls Remus’ name and Harry forces his eyes open, his skull is killing him, probably cracked from its shock against the wall.

Harry watches through a blurry vision as Tonks approaches Remus slowly, carefully, and places herself between her husband and her lover. There is a sudden rich and warm force distorting the air around Harry, and he realises that Tonks just cast a wandless protective shield to prevent Remus from doing any further damage to his person. 

The golden eyes of the wolf are still on him, pupils dilated, body tense and alert, ready to pounce. The perfect predator.

“Remus.”

It’s a desperate whisper, a supplication, coming from Tonks, and Harry has never heard her make such a heartbreaking sound before.

The sound of his wife’s voice seems to finally penetrate Remus’ mind, and his pupils slowly start to shrink, his irises fading from gold to mossy green. The tension in his body lessens and with a last long look at his prey--one that makes Harry shrivel down on himself--Remus’ eyes are searching for Tonks’ instead. 

Harry can see tremors running through Remus’ body as he takes control over the wolf and he hates himself for being the one responsible for bringing the wolf out when Remus spends his life trying to push him back deep inside; he hates himself for what he’s just done to a man he loves.

Remus’ shoulders sag, and as his wife closes the distance between them, he suddenly looks older than ever. When she reaches him, Tonks whispers his name again, it sounds like a plea and Harry has to close his eyes in pain.

Remus slowly extends a hand towards her, his fingers gently graze a lock of pink hair and he tucks it behind her ear. Now there is love and loss in his eyes and the saddest of smiles on his lips.

“I really missed the pink.” 

It’s all Remus says before he’s turning away and disappearing through the corridor, without a backward glance at either of them.

***

Tonks lets out a loud sob and sinks to her knees, holding her palms to her face, and Harry can’t move, whether because of his fall or his shock, he can’t be sure.

He doesn’t know how long he watches Tonks crying before she slowly, excruciatingly slowly, rises to her feet, as if her body weighed tons. She turns around and looks at him, a flash of worry passes in her eyes and she hurries to his side.

She silently scans his body with her wand, and Harry groans in pain when he feels his right shoulder blade being mend.

“Just a broken bone,” she informs him in a faint voice, “you’re probably feeling dizzy but your skull is fine,” she adds, handing him his shirt and helping him into a sitting position against the wall. 

She sounds detached, hollow, and Harry doesn’t know what to say.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Tonks stands up again and starts getting dressed quickly, tripping in her haste to put her knickers on. 

He reaches for his clothes and laboriously manages to put his jeans and shirt on before rising to his feet, one hand against the wall for support.

“Will you be alright going home on your own?” Tonks asks him, in the same hollow voice.

“I’ll be fine, but Tonks… What are you doing? Where are you going?” he asks, feeling panic rising in his chest. He doesn’t like the look of her, she looks awfully detached right now. 

Her eyes focus on him at his question, and Harry is glad to see some life in them again.

“I’ve got to go and find Remus,” she informs him, “I can’t… I can’t let him leave like that, I need… I need to talk to him.”

Harry nods but he’s pretty disturbed, he still doesn’t like the idea of letting her face this _hell_ and Remus on her own right now.

“Please, let me apparate you there,” he says softly, pleadingly.

Tonks nods absentmindedly and the fact that she doesn’t try to stop him from helping her is almost alarming to Harry but she’s agreeing, so he doesn’t comment.

Harry fixes the door and quickly vanishes the wine and glass on the floor. They both walk quickly through the open space, towards the Aurors apparition point before Harry glances at Tonks. 

“Where to?” he simply asks.

“Lupin’s cottage, the Moors,” she answers immediately, and Harry nods before taking her hand. 

The old Lupin cottage is where Remus goes to transform during Full Moons.

Their eyes meet for a split second before they apparate, and in a flash, Harry can see all the emotions in there, burning within him too.

Guilt. Shame. Pain. Regret. _Fear_.

***

Harry’s feet land in fat grass, the night is extremely clear and he immediately glances at the sky. The nearly full moon is hanging bright in the dark sky. Harry sighs. Remus must be hurting, the wolf already struggling to get out.

He looks down at the little cabin between giant trees a bit further into the forest. There is a candle at the window of Lupin's cottage. 

Tonks was right, Remus is here.

His eyes are still trying to adjust when Tonks starts moving, her pace fast and decided, towards the only source of light on the grounds. Harry walks behind her, not sure what to do, but feeling incapable of doing anything else than follow her. It feels like they are both walking to the gallows, it’s time to face the reality of what they’ve done. And the truth of it is devastating, their affair was a huge betrayal and tonight’s relapse is the final straw. There won’t be any more lies from now on, the truth is lying in plain sight and with the moon shining so brightly, it feels like the worst possible moment to inflict such pain on Remus.

Tonks doesn’t acknowledge Harry until they are right outside the door. She must notice the worried look on his face though because she takes a second for him then.

“Remus won’t hurt me. But you must leave. _Don’t_ come inside Harry, I mean it,” she says, stormy grey eyes on him.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods. What happened tonight would make it a terrible idea to be in Remus’ presence on any normal night. Tonight though, so close to the full moon, it would be close to suicidal. He squeezes Tonks' hand gently, knowing there are no words he can tell her that would make what is going to happen any easier, and he feels responsible for everything. It's his fault Tonks and Remus are hurting right now, his fault.

Tonks takes a shaky breath before her eyes focus on the little cabin's door, and she breaks away from him. Harry can still picture the feral eyes of the wolf, and even if she's confident Remus won’t hurt her, Harry has to make sure of it. He decides on staying behind to look out for her, just in case. 

It’s the least he can do after destroying her life. And he needs something to focus on, a purpose. Staying gives him _something_ to do, which helps keep him from thinking about what must happen when Ginny comes home.

Harry focuses on the scent of the grass, on the sounds of trees swept by the wind as his body slowly slides down the back wall of the cottage, and he sits on the dirt under the opened window. 

He hears the creak of an old door and strains his ear.

“Stay back, Dora,” says Remus’ low voice. 

He sounds tired and strained. The wind is blocking Tonks’ next words but Harry figures she must have said something because Remus is speaking again. This time, his voice sounds clear and sharp as a knife and Harry feels chills run through his body.

“Is he hurt?” he asks.

“No lasting physical damages,” answers Tonks quietly.

There is a long silence before Harry hears Tonks’ voice again, and the sound of it, the pleading quality of it, raises goosebumps to his skin.

“Remus, I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so, _so_ fucking sorry. This is… this was… my _biggest mistake_ ,” her voice shakes and turns into a sob, “I should never have… I’m sorry. Fuck! And I’m so sorry you had to see that-”

“How long?” interrupts Remus simply, deadly cold.

“Tw-two months” answers Tonks faintly.

Tonks’ admission feels like a punch in the guts and Harry can almost feel pain radiating through the walls of the cabin. But Remus doesn’t make a sound, and the silence is more chilling than anything.

It’s freezing Harry’s heart and he feels devastated. He presses his face between his knees and takes short, panicked breaths, he can already hear himself saying the same words to Ginny, soon, far too soon. 

“Remus, I love you,” says Tonks’ voice eventually. It sounds faint and yet distinct through the sound of the wind.

“Stay _back_ , Dora. I mean it!” growls Remus, “the full is too close and I can’t…” his voice breaks, “I can’t bear his scent on you.” 

Harry feels himself shrinking in shame. He can hear Tonks pleading with Remus again, telling him she loves him, and the words sound so true that Harry realises her desire to save her marriage is much stronger than he thought, and he should have seen it, he shouldn’t have dragged her down with him tonight. He was so lost in his own grief that he acted selfish and destructive and now… now _everything_ is over.

“Why, Dora, why?” asks Remus after a long time, his voice breaking, “do I mean so little to you? Is our marriage so _meaningless_ to you?”

“No, Remus, no, I-”

“And what about _his_ marriage?” interrupts Remus, anger rising in his voice, “Fuck, all this time I thought you two had had a row or… some sort of conflict at work! I even talked about it with _him_ !” he snorts derisively, “how fucking stupid I’ve been, _of course,_ you were fucking! His scent was all over you, I was just too stupid to understand!” he spits angrily, “tell me, Dora, do you love him?” he asks viciously.

“Not like I love you, no,” says Tonks defeated voice, “we… ended things weeks ago,” she adds in a weak voice.

“ _Ended things?_ ” repeats Remus, snorting with irony, “you’ve got to explain to me what this fucking means then because what I saw tonight did NOT LOOK LIKE ANY OF YOU WERE FINISHED,” he roars out.

“It was wrong,” she says quickly but weakly, “we ended things weeks ago. Tonight was just…” breathes Tonks, her voice fading. 

Harry can’t blame her for not knowing how to explain what happened tonight. The feelings and emotions leading to that moment are so complex that it’s hard to put them into words. But no words can excuse what they’ve done anyway.

“Is _he_ in love with you?” asks Remus faintly.

“No. Harry loves Ginny,” answers Tonks simply.

There is movement inside the cabin that Harry recognizes as Remus’ long and fast strides. He’s pacing, agitated, and Harry has no trouble picturing the agony on his face.

“I don’t get it,” he says, “I don’t get it,” he repeats, pain in his voice “why then, Dora, if not love? Sex? Is that it? Is this some kind of torrid _sex affair_ ? And this is who you choose for that? _Harry fucking Potter_ ? _Ginny’s_ husband? My… James’ son? Our son’s godfather?” spits Remus viciously, sounding beside himself.

Tonks whimpers in shame and Harry can’t blame her. He’s never felt so ashamed in his life, his betrayal is beyond words.

“Please, Remus-”

“I never thought you’d _cheat_ ,” he interrupts coldly, “Fuck! I can barely look at you right now! I never thought you’d cheat just for _sex_ …” he spits disdainfully, cutting hate in his tone.

There is a long silence before Remus continues, his voice suddenly vulnerable, “I thought sex was- you never even gave me a reason to feel… _inapt-_ ”

“No,” interrupts Tonks abruptly, “stop, this has nothing to do with this and you _know_ it,” she says, her voice rising over Remus’.

“WHY THEN? WHY? If it’s not love, as you say, if it’s not sex, then _what happened_?”

There is a faint noise, and maybe Tonks is trying to say something, but before she can, Remus’ voice is rising over hers again. It’s flat and sounds resigned. 

“I always _knew_ something like that would happen… I always knew someone _better_ would show up someday but… _Harry_ ?… I can’t… this fucking _hurts_ , Dora!” he grits through his teeth, “of course, he’s young and healthy and bloody formidable, and you must be tired of your old husband, perhaps it makes sense, I was just too blind to see it, even if I knew that, _inevitably_ , you’d find someone better someday, it was always only a matter of time before-”

“SHUT UP!” yells Tonks suddenly, effectively cutting off Remus’ rambling, “THIS! _This, right here is what happened! You_ ! Always waiting for me to find someone “better”, always on the lookout, always waiting for me to stop _loving you_!”

“But… but that’s exactly wha-”

“No! No, it’s not! I never stopped loving you!”

There is a short silence before Remus’ cold voice is heard again:

“If our marriage wows mean so little to you then-”

“Don’t you dare give me lessons about marriage wows, Remus Lupin!” says Tonks, voice so fierce that Harry feels chills down his spine, “don’t you dare do that when _you_ left me right after we got married, when I was fucking _pregnant_!”

There is a very long silence and Harry presses his fingers to his eyes.

“Look,” starts Tonks more quietly, resolutely, “I’m not making excuses for what I did… I’m not. It’s awful and unforgivable. I was weak and made all the wrong choices. But I’ve started to understand part of the reason why I reached out to the one person that I trust entirely, that is endlessly, completely _devoted_ to me, someone I could be with and never wonder if he was with me out of obligation-”

“Obligation?” starts Remus, hurt heavy in his voice.

“-And _Harry…_ ” interrupts Tonks, “he shows a brave face to the world but the war cost him _a lot_ and it’s all he’s ever known, Remus, he’s not equipped to handle _happiness_ properly yet... he’s got his own issues to work on and he’s just starting to try and to actually tackle them…”

Harry hears Remus’ derisive snort at his wife’s word and he can’t blame him.

“Yeah, fucking good job on him, maybe the two of you should-”

“It was _fucked-up_ Remus, what we did, it really was, it was a twisted way to feel trusted and… comforted, to forget about everything for a moment and I’m sorry for hurting you, _so_ sorry. We _ended_ things and then tonight happened and it was even more twisted and wrong than before.”

“You were fucking him for _two months_ Tonks!” yells Remus.

“And then we ended things,” she repeats desperately, “it was wrong from the beginning and I hate myself for falling into it. But Harry and I both realised it was not the right way to solve our respective issues, we just… used each other to get to that conclusion,“ she finishes shamefully.

“So what did you expect would happen?” asks Remus angrily, “Did you think I would never know? Or perhaps that I’d stand by and let you have the Chosen One on the side for lonely nights? Close my eyes to _this_?” he asks spitefully. 

“No, I never wanted that-”

“Two months Dora! Two whole fucking months! Was it worth it? Did the two of you get your rocks off? Was he so good that you couldn’t get enough of him? FUCKING TELL ME!” roars Remus, his rage and hurt almost making the old cabin vibrate. 

Harry hears Tonks’ sob but no answer comes out of her. The tense silence stretches for so long that Harry can hear a ringing in his ears.

“What were you waiting for?” asks Remus eventually, sounding defeated, “Did you stay because of Teddy? Or out of pity?” 

“No! I love you and I never, _ever_ wanted to leave you,” she answers, fierceness back in her voice, “whatever happens next, you _have_ to believe me on that.”

“So you just did everything you could to make sure _I_ would leave you…” states Remus coldly.

“Maybe some small sick part of me needed to see for myself what I really mean to you,” snaps Tonks abruptly and Harry can feel the air suddenly charge with another kind of heavy intensity at her remark.

There is a short silence.

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” asks Remus, his voice dangerously low.

“You never gave yourself completely to me,” comes Tonks’ biting answer.

“I married you! We have a _son_!” yells Remus immediately.

“And yet, I never felt sure that you truly wanted to be with me.”

There is a loud screeching sound and a loud crash, a chair no doubt, flying through the room.

“How can you say that? I’ve loved you almost since the day I met you!” hisses Remus, “I left Sirius for you!”

Harry’s heart misses a beat and he’s not sure he’s heard Remus properly.

“No you didn’t,” says Tonks sadly, “you waited for him to be dead before finally admitting to yourself that you loved me, no matter how many times we had sex behind Sirius’ back in the meantime!”

This time, Harry is pretty sure he heard everything right. 

But absolutely _nothing_ makes sense. 

Sirius and Remus had been... what? Lovers? In love? A couple? For how long? When had this started? Why was Harry never told? The feeling of coldness in Harry reaches his heart and he feels hurt, betrayed, he feels like a child trapped in a closet under the stairs. 

The irony of _him_ feeling betrayed right now almost elicits a mad laugh from Harry.

“It wasn’t like that, Sirius-” starts Remus, his voice a mixture of sadness and anger.

“-And then, you pushed me away,” interrupts Tonks, “you were willing to _die_ rather than be with me! And even after we got married, after I got pregnant, you never truly wanted to be with me. You only came back out of responsibility. Only because _Harry_ kicked some sense into you and made you ashamed of yourself!”

“That is not true, that is not true, Dora! Leaving was my biggest mistake and-”

“-And _this_ is mine,” says Tonks, firmly before taking a deep breath. “I never fully recovered from that time. Everyone I loved was fighting! My father left and never came back! _You_ left me alone, _pregnant_ , in wartime,” she sobs, “and I never recovered from it, I never fully trusted you after that, I couldn’t _trust_ you when some days all I could see was you, waiting for me to leave someday, never fully accepting my love. It felt like you didn’t want to be with me. And I should have talked to you, I should have fucking _raged_ at you but I didn’t. I was too scared you’d leave again if I talked to you. In the end, I went to Harry instead, we never planned it but it _happened_ . And I even _wished_ I would fall in love with him, _that’s_ how twisted I became after years of watching you wait for me to stop loving you, _that’s_ how unhappy I’ve been, Remus.”

There is a very long silence, it feels cold and charged as the truth slowly sinks in.

“Your hair…” breathes Remus eventually.

“Yes. My hair. My morphing fucking up started after I realised how much you and I were actually missing! And I’m so sorry it took me being with Harry to realise it because It was all about _you_ , it’s _always_ been about you, Remus. And there was nothing I could do to change the fact that I love _you_ , and believe me, I _tried!_ It’s so fucking painful to love you, Remus, only not for the reason you think!” she says, almost savagely.

There is another long silence before Tonks icy tones are heard:

“So yes, hate me if you want, I fucked up. Big time. But you know how that feels, don’t you?”

There is spite in Tonks’ words and even Harry flinches. She’s being incredibly hard on Remus right now and perhaps Tonks feels it too because when she starts talking again, there is vulnerability and sadness in her voice.

“But can’t you see, Remus?” she says, tears in her voice, “In the end it was _me_ that was never good enough for _you…_ ”

There is a short silence and then Remus’ soft voice says:

“Dora, you’re everything to me. _Everything_.”

“Then please, _please,_ if you still love me, if you ever truly wanted to be with me, if you think you still want me after all that, give us a last chance. A real one.” 

Silence.

“No more pretending, no more lying,” she continues, “I want it all or nothing Remus, because neither of us deserves a half-happiness,” says Tonks fiercely, “we went through _hell_ together and we deserve _real_ happiness. And Teddy deserves parents that are true to each other. We need to put every doubt on the table, every hard feeling. Every. Single. One. It won’t be easy but I want us to give it a last chance because I _know_ I can never give up on you, I know I won’t stop loving you, no matter what happens. I just can’t. But I’m done pretending we are okay because, obviously, we are _not_. Our love can only bring us so far,” she finishes with a sniff, and Harry has no trouble picturing the fierceness in her stormy grey eyes right now.

“So, the question is, do _you_ think there is still a chance for us? Do you _want_ to give us a last chance, a real one? Everything or nothing?” asks Tonks, her voice full of hope and fear.

There is a long silence punctuated only by loud sniffing sounds. Harry can’t be sure if they’re coming from Tonks, Remus or the both of them.

“I… we- there are obviously _major_ issues, Dora,” starts Remus slowly, “and… the wolf, I don’t know how it will handle what you did.” Remus lets out a long sigh before continuing, “I don’t even know if _I_ can handle it...” he confesses, “I need time,” he finishes simply.

Behind the hurt and vulnerability of Remus’ voice, Harry can hear the breathy quality of it, the hidden _hope._ Remus could leave right now if he wanted to, easily, and be done with it all. But despite it all, Harry gets the feeling that Remus truly wants that _everything_ for them. 

Whether it will be enough to save their marriage, Harry doesn’t know.

Enough. 

Harry’s heard enough. 

He’s stolen too much from Remus and Tonks already. This does not belong to him.

He rises to his feet, surprised to feel that his legs aren’t shaking, and walks away. He’s got to go home and get ready. Because when Ginny comes home, four days from now, he’s going to tell her _everything_.

And in the meantime, Harry needs to find _help_. 

The cost of this realization is heavy, but there’s no longer avoiding the fact that his deep traumas are still there, destroying his life slowly, day after day and whatever the consequences, it’s time Harry truly deals with them. He obviously failed at doing it on his own and burying them doesn’t work anymore. He can’t keep breaking the hearts of the people he loves the most rather than face the man life has turned him into. And _he_ let it happen. This can’t go on anymore.

There is no hope ahead unless he finally takes care of himself and takes full responsibility for what he’s done.

Harry apparates away into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… many of you got it right about Remus. This was a very painful chapter to write and one of the first I worked on in the beginning. It was always going to come to that moment. Next chapter will be the last, and perhaps a short epilogue to follow. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading <3


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